She nodded. ‘I thought the same thing: this can’t possibly be a sexual relationship,’ she said, getting straight to the point. ‘Which is why I’m wondering if Ms Quincy has been around for quite a while – before your father’s health declined, even before Carmen died. She could well have been; she’s forty-five now but this relationship makes a lot more sense – in fact, it only makes sense if it started ten, fifteen, even twenty years ago. If he was still swimming every morning at ninety-two, I imagine he would have been a “robust” man at seventy-eight.’

‘Of course. But Carmen only died seven years ago.’

Charlotte watched him. ‘So you don’t think he would cheat on his mistress?’ Was that really the pertinent point?

Mateo looked dumbfounded by the thought. ‘I . . . I didn’t think so.’

‘Well I think we must consider all possibilities,’ she said as Miguel came back with their drinks, iced towels rolled on individual trays. ‘Thank you.’

She watched as Mateo pressed the towel to the back of his neck before shaking it open and pressing it over his face for a moment. The heat was blistering today, even in the shade, and suddenly London’s gentle grey rendition of summer didn’t seem so bad. ‘What is the latest from your lawyers? Are there any loopholes to work with?’

‘None so far. The law is agonizingly clear – he can give what he likes to whoever he wishes during his life. Of course, I have a trust, my own investments, shares in the company and so forth. I shan’t be left destitute. But in terms of the bulk of the estate, I am still merely the heir; everything else is in my father’s name.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He glanced over at her, distracted, despondent. ‘It is ironic – all my life, money has been something I have never had to even think about. And now, as I approach old age, I must start counting pennies?’ He looked genuinely pained. ‘Papa and I are close, there has never been a feud or a problem between us. Why is he doing this?’

Charlotte shook her head sadly. ‘Love and money have always been uneasy bedfellows.’

‘But this is not love! He does not love her.’

‘No. An infatuation is more likely, but to him perhaps, I don’t know . . .’ She shrugged, trying to imagine what on earth his father might be feeling. ‘Maybe it makes him feel alive. Young again.’

‘He is making a fool of himself. Out of all of us. Once this gets out, the family will be disgraced. A laughing stock. For generations, the Mendoza name has meant something. Now we will be known for the tawdry headlines—’

‘That’s not going to happen. Firstly, this is all strictly confidential. The only people who know about this issue are your lawyers and banking team, all of whom are bound by secrecy agreements.’

He nodded, looking like a boy wanting comfort from his mother.