Tom watched her go with a worried expression on his face. He’d been in an agony of indecision all afternoon as to what he should do, and found that he could barely bring himself to look at Ben. Through no fault of his own the poor lad had grown up knowing neither of his natural parents, and when he discovered the truth – if Tom decided to tell him, that was – how was he going to react? He could understand Sunday feeling shaken or jealous even – but it wasn’t as if they had been together when he’d had his brief affair with Cecile, was it? Once she’d got used to the idea she’d be pleased for him, surely? Tom himself was already beginning to feel a tingle of excitement. He had a son, his very own son – and that was something to celebrate, wasn’t it, however the lad had come about?

‘Are you going to swish that soup around your dish all night, Tom?’ Ben asked, interrupting his thoughts. ‘You haven’t touched a drop and it must be stone cold now. Are you not feeling well either?’

‘What? … Oh, I’m fine, thanks. But I think I’ll just pop upstairs and see how Sunday is, if you’ll excuse me?’

As the door closed behind him Ben and Kitty exchanged glances and shrugged before going on with their meal.

Sunday was standing at the window staring out into the darkening night when Tom entered their bedroom. The grounds of Treetops were a haven for the local wildlife and she often stood there watching the muntjacs, foxes and rabbits on the lawns and the squirrels in the trees. But tonight, he could tell that she wasn’t really seeing anything. Her mind was no doubt full of the latest developments and how they should handle the situation.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ she mused as she heard Tom come to stand behind her. ‘I think you should tell Ben about the letter and let him know who he is.’

‘Really? You wouldn’t mind?’ Tom couldn’t stop the joy from showing on his face as she turned to face him, appearing calm although inside she was in turmoil.

‘The girl must have held you in very high regard and cared for you deeply to do what she did. She could have gone to you and told you of her condition so that you would do the right thing and marry her, but she didn’t. Ben is your son … probably the only one you will ever have, so he should be acknowledged as such.’ The words were threatening to choke her but she forced herself to go on. ‘He deserves to know about his true parentage.’

Then, when Tom went to embrace her, she sidestepped him, lifted the fluffy towels Bessie had laid ready on the end of the bed and went and locked herself away in the bathroom, leaving Tom to chew on his lip as he watched her go. Once there, her chin drooped to her chest and she sobbed, broken-heartedly.