Chapter 13

‘Anthony, it's Dawn. Dawn Shepherd. Could I come and see you?'

‘Of course. You don't need to ask.'

I could have gone to my mother's shop and poured my heart out, wept on her shoulder and asked for guidance, but that's not what I wanted. I wanted someone who knew Dominic to help me with my dilemma. I walked out of the solicitor's as I ended the call and looked back at the imposing building of Ripley, Blumenthal and Partners. I physically shuddered.

I decided not to turn up at my grandad's house empty-handed so popped into a supermarket on the way and bought a pack of muffins. The subject we'd be chatting about might be heavy and disturbing, but in my opinion, everything is better with cake.

As I pulled up outside his house, the front door opened. He'd been waiting for me. Something about that made me smile, and I felt warm inside.

‘You look smart,' he said, as I trotted down the path.

‘I'm in my work clothes.'

‘Quite the businesswoman. Come in. I've got the kettle on.'

‘Lovely. I've brought some muffins.'

‘You certainly know the way to my heart.' He smiled.

While Anthony set about making tea, I filled him in on my conversation with Clare Delaney.

‘I did tell you she was a formidable woman,' he said.

‘She oozes confidence. She's quite scary.'

‘I suppose you have to be if you're going to be arguing in court.'

‘Did she tell you she could get Dominic a seven-figure settlement?'

‘She did.'

‘What do you think about it?'

‘Blood money,' he spat. ‘Maybe it was this Fenadine he was taking that altered his mind, but at the end of the day, he killed a little girl, and he shouldn't be compensated for taking her life and destroying the lives of her family.' While he spoke, Anthony had both hands pressed firmly on the countertop in the kitchen. He wasn't old, but what life had thrown at him had taken its toll, and he was fragile. His body was stooped, and his movements were slow. He didn't look well.

‘Don't you want your son released?'

‘Not like this. Will you carry the tray through to the living room for me?'

I picked up the tray with ease, and Anthony led the way. I set it down on the coffee table and poured us both a cup from the teapot.

‘You look pensive,' he said.

‘I really don't know what to do for the best,' I said, sitting back on the comfortable sofa, wrapping my hands around the mug. ‘Clare said I should visit him in prison and ask him the questions she can't answer.'

‘Don't listen to a word she says,' he said firmly. ‘All she's interested in is money. She doesn't care about reuniting a father with his long-lost daughter. She doesn't give a damn if we all live happily ever after. The second that massive cheque is cleared and in the firm's account, she'll move on to the next case and forget all about you.'

‘You're right.'

‘I know I am. What you need to ask yourself is, will your life be any richer for having Dominic in it? Do you want your father to be part of your future?'

‘If you'd asked me that a week ago, I would have said a definite yes.'

‘And now?'

I thought for a long moment. ‘He killed someone.' There was a catch in my throat. ‘Whether he meant to or not, he killed a child.'

‘There's your answer.'

‘But what if he's spent the last twenty years in prison regretting it?'

‘Could you forgive him then?'

‘Maybe. I-I'm not sure. Could you?'

‘No,' he answered firmly.

‘Why not?'

He adjusted himself in his seat. He was obviously wrestling with something he didn't want to bring up. ‘I know Dominic. You only know about what you've read in the news. I know what wasn't reported – I lived it. Carole kept some diaries. I'll dig them out for you. However, I think you should speak to a man called Joby Turnbull.'

‘Who's he?'

‘He was a friend of Dominic's. He knew him before and during the Fenadine years. Speak to someone who doesn't have an interest in whether Dominic is released or not. You might find him useful.'

‘How do I find him?'

‘You're a child of the internet age – you tell me,' he said, with a smile.