‘Thank you. We all have our secrets . . .’

Her mother looked up.

‘Well, you have never told me anything about my father.’

Her mother picked up the leather case. ‘Let’s look through these and see if we can salvage your career with them.’

‘Mum?’

Her mother didn’t respond but opened the box. She pushed aside a silk bow. Lottie swayed.

Her mother grabbed her. ‘Are you OK? I know the jewels are impressive.’ She lifted a diamond necklace that part of Lottie’s mind registered was classic Cartier. ‘But what is truly interesting is that many of these pieces are Russian, possibly Fabergé.’ She dug down and pulled out a yellow sheet of paper. ‘Countess Elena was a cousin and she left them to my mother.’

She turned to Lottie. ‘I think you need to sit down.’

Lottie picked up the bow.

‘Funny thing to have in your jewellery case.’

Lottie nodded.

‘It must have fallen off one of her dresses.’ Her mother picked up an enamelled locket. ‘I remember her wearing this.’ She pressed the clasp and opened it. ‘Me as a baby and . . .’ She ran her finger over the other picture. ‘My mother with my father and Tom Martin.’

Lottie held fast to the silk bow and looked at the locket. The photos were lovely and the locket itself exquisite, from the white enamel to the sapphires picking out the details on the diamond ribbon bow at the top. Glancing down into the case it was more like a treasure chest overflowing pearls, diamonds, rubies . . .

‘Mum where did you find this?’

‘In the false bottom in the big wardrobe.’ She looked at Lottie. ‘I think my mother put it away fifty-six years ago and then forgot it.’

Lottie nodded but she knew her grandmother had not forgotten it. She had buried it.

83. Diana

83

Diana

5 August 2018, 3.00 p.m.

Diana studied her daughter as if she’d never seen her before. Those grey eyes were serious and, right at this moment, full of sorrow. Diana had seen that look before on Lottie’s father’s face. A few hours ago, Lottie had asked her about her father, Arash. Diana hadn’t allowed herself to even think his name for years but looking at Lottie this morning she couldn’t deny her this anymore.

‘Mum, I have a question.’ Lottie hesitated as she spoke. Her eyes downcast one moment and fearful the next.

‘Fire away.’ Diana smiled, hoping she was wrong about what was coming next.

She took a deep breath. ‘I want to ask you about my father.’

‘What father?’ Diana sat down on the sofa. She had dreaded the very idea of this conversation for so long.

‘Exactly.’ She huffed. ‘One of the last things Paul said to me is that he had located my father.’

‘That’s how he got to you.’

‘Probably. My father has always been my weak spot.’ She rocked from one foot to the other.

‘So, what did he say?’

‘Afghanistan.’