“Shall we go?” says Mum.

“Let me get a piccie first!” says Janice. “All line up in front of the fountains!”

OK, we have majorly digressed from Ocean’s Eleven at this point. I can’t imagine Brad Pitt accosting a random tourist and asking him to take a quick “snap of the gang.”

Then Mum wants a photo of her and Dad, and then they want one with Janice, and I’m just wondering whether I should ask Suze to take one of Luke and me, when I notice a stocky man nearby, watching us. I wouldn’t even have noticed him, except he’s staring quite fixedly at Dad, and as he turns his head, the light catches his face and—

I gasp so loud, Luke whips round in alarm.

“Look!” I flail my arms. “Is that him? Is it Brent?”

The man takes a step backward and from his caught-out expression I just know it’s him. He looks like the photo, only craggier and sadder. He also looks as though he’s having second thoughts about being here.

“Don’t go!” I add hastily. “Please.” I hurry over to Dad and tug his sleeve. “Dad, look who’s here!”

He turns, and I can see the light of surprise in his eyes.

“Brent! You made it! I didn’t think you’d—”

“I got a voicemail from Rebecca,” says Brent. “She told me…” He rubs his brow. “Told me you’d be here. Told me some other stuff. Not sure what to believe.”

Slowly, Suze, Tarkie, and the others are gathering round, peering at Brent, almost in disbelief. We’ve been chasing, discussing, focusing on this guy for all this time. And, finally, here he is.

He’s not a well-looking man. He’s still got the square brow of his youth, but his gray hair is going, and the rest of his face is jowly, with sunken, defeated eyes. He looks like he’s had a hard life. He’s wearing an old, cheap-looking jacket, and a backpack is slung over his shoulder.

Now his eyes are moving suspiciously over all of us, as though expecting a trick.

“Did Rebecca tell you—” Dad breaks off. “Did she mention a settlement at all?” he says carefully. “Did she mention the money?”

Brent’s expression immediately becomes more defensive. His glower deepens and his shoulders tense. Which I can understand. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to believe it either. I wouldn’t want the hope till I had the proof.

“Makes no sense,” he says. “Why would Corey suddenly cave in? I tried in 2002.”

“I know,” says Dad quickly. “Brent, like I tried to tell you before, I had no idea you were approaching Corey then. None. I would never— You have to know…” As he gazes at Brent, he seems a bit overcome. “Here. Read this.” He takes out of his pocket a copy of the settlement agreement. “It’s what you’re morally owed. No more.”

Tourists are pressing backward and forward, trying to get a view of the fountains, but the ten of us are totally engrossed in Brent’s face as he reads the words of the document.