‘Your mother, for example,’ he continued, smoothly. ‘What was she? She told the doctors eighteen, but who could say, eh? Which of the men from the base was it, do you think? She enjoyed her fair share, so it goes. It was almost a crime giving you back to her, no more than a girl herself. She wanted to kick up her heels and throw off her petticoats and she was lumbered with a baby, howling and crying and getting in the way. No wonder she forgot to feed you. No wonder she’d lock the door on you and go away for days and never once think about you, snivelling in the dark. It’s a shame what happened to her. But some women just can’t say no to it, and that “it” could be all sorts. Drink. Opiates. A bit of hows-yer-father. She liked the lot. It’s amazing she kept you so long really. But them nuns wanted you, didn’t they? Bloody shock to all when you passed those grammar school exams with the best marks in the county. But they didn’t see into your soul. Not properly. They wanted the credit for taking a poor little girl from a broken home and turning her into an Oxbridge scholar and they put up with what they knew about you because it was worth it for the reward. The people who know you properly – they always knew it would go wrong. You had your mother’s ways. And you proved it, didn’t you? Opened your legs like there was no tomorrow. Made yourself popular as the whore on campus. And then you set your sights on the big fish …’

‘Stop it,’ I whispered, and I felt as though I was going to sag to my knees. ‘Please …’

‘A peer of the realm, no less. A rich, powerful, elderly gentleman and honorary faculty member at your college. You saw him, you seduced him and you got yourself pregnant by him. Oh you played well, my girl.’

‘How …’ I begged. ‘How can you know?’

‘What was it, eh? Love?’