With a loud snarl, Rebecca morphed into her stuck-up persona. ‘You were a lousy father. That’s why I applied for custody.’

Lance shook his head. ‘That’s so weak, Rebecca, and you fucking know it. I wasn’t lousy. But you were delusional. Anyway, she’s gone now.’ He stopped before he choked on the grief.

‘Yes, and it’s all your fault!’ she shouted.

The sudden silence conjured up dread . . . and guilt. She was right, of course. The last thing he remembered was when Kendall invited him in for a cup of tea, after he’d handed over the keys to the flat, and he’d cold-shouldered her.

‘I know.’

Rebecca frowned. She never expected that.

‘But I’m now going to do everything in my power to protect my other two daughters.’

Rebecca tilted her head in confusion. Then her eyes widened. Surely, he didn’t know the truth? ‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes frantically searched his.

‘Poppy and Brooke!’

She shook her head, but her eyes were full of worry. So he knew then that they were his.

‘You were pregnant when I left. They were never Alastair’s children, they were mine. You pretended they were born early when in actual fact they were full term. You were so desperate to hang on to that prick that you pretended they were his. You really are one conniving bitch. I won’t forgive you for denying me my rights to my girls!’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous. The twins are not yours. You are demented. Now, get out, before I call the police. This is absurd.’

‘Thou doth protest too much.’

The fury took hold of her. In a flash, she threw the kettle so hard it ripped from the socket in the wall and just missed Lance, leaving a dent in the American style fridge-freezer.

‘Get out!’ she screamed.

Lance let out a guttural laugh at the sheer anguish on her face. ‘No! I’m here for a reason, not to see you get riled up.’ He pushed himself away from the worktop and headed to the back door.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

Blanking her, he went outside and marched towards the end of the garden.

Rebecca wrapped her dressing gown tighter around her fuller waist and slid her feet into the Wellington boots that stood by the back door.

Ignoring her calls, he reached the log cabin and tried to open the door, but it was locked. He raised his hand and felt the heat from the top wooden slats and noticed the condensation on the window. He knew then that the cabin had been heated and not so long ago. The closed curtains blocked his view.

He listened. There was silence, except for Rebecca’s voice getting closer. He took three steps back, by which time, Rebecca was by his side. ‘What the hell are you doing? There’s nothing in there that belongs to you.’