‘I can’t, Grace.’ He shook his head.

‘Pat. You can tell me anything. You know that.’

‘I promised him I’d never tell anyone.’

‘I won’t breathe a word to anyone, I promise,’ Grace said, placing her hand on his.

‘It won’t be that easy for you, Grace,’ he whispered.

‘What? Why?’

‘Promise me you’ll never tell him, Grace.’

Grace’s heart started to hammer in her chest. What the hell was he on about. Tell who?

‘I promise,’ she lied, because she needed to know who Patrick was talking about more than she’d needed to know anything in her life. ‘Who is Tommy’s son?’

Patrick looked up at her with a look of horror on his face. ‘Nathan,’ he whispered.

Grace felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. ‘What? How? Why doesn’t anyone know? Why didn’t Tommy tell him?’

Patrick shook his head. ‘He was ashamed. Embarrassed that he’d abandoned his son. Tommy swore me and your dad to secrecy. He was married to his first wife, Marie, then. And she couldn’t have kids. She would have murdered him if she’d found out. Plus, by all accounts, Nathan’s mother was a fucking lunatic. She thought she’d landed the jackpot when she bedded Tommy though, but he would never have left Marie – not even for a son. So, Tommy paid her off and that was the end of it. But Tommy regretted his decision every day of his life.’

Grace ate her spaghetti and shared a bottle of wine but she barely registered anything else Patrick said. She hardly tasted the food or the drink. Her head spun with so many questions. It was crazy – but it all fit together. Tommy had treated Nathan like a son, almost from the moment they met. He was always considered untouchable as far as Tommy was concerned. Nathan, in his arrogance, assumed it was because he was so great at his job.

After they’d finished their meal, Grace made excuses about feeling tired and asked Patrick to leave, telling him she had an early start. She had to confirm that what Patrick had told her was true, and she could only think of one other person who might know the truth after all those years.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Walking up the path to the redbrick house, Grace noted the stone fountain in the middle of the lawn, and the various garish ornaments which festooned the front garden. If the exterior was any indication, this house was as ostentatious as its owner.

A large golden door knocker adorned the shiny red front door, longing to be used. She rang the doorbell instead and listened to the tune of ‘Greensleeves’ filling the air.

The door was opened quickly, as though the occupier were expecting someone. She had hardly changed at all.

‘Sharon.’ Grace smiled at Tommy McNulty’s widow.