‘Hmm, yes, I can see that you would be,’ he said, reluctantly looking at her closely, as though it was fascinating to consider she might have a life outside of managing his. ‘. . . Congratulations.’

‘Thank you.’

He lapsed into thought again. ‘When would you need to be there by?’

‘In London? Well, the dinner’s at eight.’

He thought for a moment. ‘Okay. So then you could still accompany them down there in the morning and get them settled in? I will be in Seville, making arrangements for my father to be discharged and sent home to recuperate, but I’d be happy to put the plane at your disposal to get you back to London for early evening.’

Her heart sank. If she had a private plane at her disposal, how could she refuse? On what grounds? There were none. Her mother would freak, Stephen would sulk, but what else could she do? It would work. Just. ‘Okay, thank you.’

‘Of course, I’d want you back here the next day. What day is the wedding exactly?’

‘Um, it’s a civil ceremony on Thursday but I really will need to be in London next week for final—’

‘Yes, yes, we’ll have you back in good time for all of that, but I’m sure you understand the imperative of making sure the reunion proceeds smoothly. If this is, as you said, my father’s dying wish, then we must all do what it takes to make it a success. You, Charlotte, are a vital cog in that wheel.’

She suppressed a sigh, forced a smile. ‘I have an appointment on Sunday morning but I can be back by the lunchtime?’

‘Good. Our two Marinas trust you, your being there should put them at their ease and help them settle in till my father is well enough to join them,’ he said, looking pleased. ‘I really feel that between you and Professor Marling we have the best chances of successfully resolving this matter, one way or the other.’ He tapped his finger restlessly, staring into the middle distance. ‘I will certainly be intrigued to get to the bottom of it all. If they’ve been estranged for so many years, then there has to be a good reason for it. That is a long time to hold a grudge.’ He looked at her, perplexed. ‘I mean, what exactly could have happened that was so bad it lasted both their lifetimes?’

*

She stared at the number she had scrawled in red pen on the back of the receipt as Rosie dictated it down the phone. It was just a random jumble of digits and yet it was more than that – it was the hotline to him, the golden thread that could connect her to him wherever he was in the world. It brought him into her life, his voice into her ear. It made him real and flesh and blood again.

Was he expecting her to call? Or after the way he’d left, so abruptly, with such finality, was that supposed to have drawn the line in the sand between them?