That doesn’t make sense. No pension fund on its own stood to lose that much. ‘Did she tell you which business felt so threatened?’

‘I did ask. But you know Clare. She followed the rules and she didn’t want to tell me. Do you have any idea who it was?’

I don’t hesitate. ‘Media Corp.’

I hear a rubbing sound. I know exactly what’s happening. Dad is scratching his chin with the middle fingers of his right hand. It’s his ‘tell’ when he’s thinking hard about something difficult.

‘That makes sense. She loathed Breitner and the hateful values of his papers. She would have reacted very badly to Kendall surrendering to his pressure. Can you prove it?’

Now it’s my turn to pause for thought. Dad has asked the only question that matters. It’s time to learn humility. I thought I knew beyond reasonable doubt that Kendall had fathered Clare’s unborn child, and that was an almost career-ending misjudgement.

‘I have circumstantial evidence. But everyone’s denying it. I can’t write it – yet.’

And I can’t give up. If Breitner stood to lose billions – which clearly Clare believed – he had a motive to want her silenced and out of the way. And he would have had less of a troubled conscience ordering an accident for her than he would shooting his own dog. Though it still doesn’t explain why it would suit him to have her disappear, when he’d already forced Kendall to pull the tax.

‘I’ve got to get to the bottom of this.’

I brace myself for the inevitable rebuke. I assume he will now tell me not to stir things up. To leave well alone, that I will only make a mess of things.

Something has changed.

‘Son, your mother and I think you are doing the right thing. We want you to find out what happened. But please take care. Don’t put yourself at risk.’

Wow. It has been years since I haven’t felt a failure in the eyes of the legendary, much-loved Bernard and Ginger. I am certain Clare knew Breitner’s secret. She wanted to blow the whistle on him. For her, and for Mum and Dad, I will be her whistleblower.

I have a sense Dad wants to say something else. I pre-empt him by saying unfamiliar words. ‘I love you, Dad. Give my love to Mum.’

Even down the phone I can hear Dad is embarrassed. This is hard for him.

‘I’m proud of you, Gil. Mum sends her love.’

That’s as close as he can get to reciprocating and it’s all I can do not to burst into tears.

‘And Gil?’

‘Yes?’

‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

I actually laugh. ‘What, me?’