“It happened in a country lane. Apparently a farmer saw everything, and he said a rabbit ran out onto the road-”

“Are you telling me that your father killed Liz to avoid a rabbit?” Gavin demanded sharply.

“Liz was driving.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“It was her car. Dad had just given it to her. She loved driving it whenever she could. And the farmer saw her at the wheel. He said she was going too fast to stop, and when the rabbit appeared she swerved and-and they overturned.”

“He gave it to her?” Gavin echoed. “What kind of car was it?” Norah told him. It was the latest version of a fast, powerful make. “What did he think he was doing giving her a car like that?” Gavin demanded angrily.

“It was the one she wanted. He tried to talk her out of it, but Liz was adamant that it was that or nothing. She promised she’d be careful but-she loved going fast.”

His rage was growing. “He must have known that. He should never have given in.”

“Stop it,” she said desperately. “Stop trying to find excuses to make everything Dad’s fault.”

“I know that before she met him she’d never have risked her life to avoid a rabbit. That was his doing, and but for that she might be alive.”

Norah raised her voice so as to be heard above his rage. “Gavin, my father was not to blame for every single thing that’s gone wrong in your life and hers.”

The pain he’d been repressing broke out. “I suppose such an insane act makes perfect sense to you, doesn’t it?” he snapped.

“If you mean would I have swerved to avoid hitting an animal, yes, I would. But I never drove as fast as Liz, nor did Dad. If either of us-”

“It wasn’t her fault,” he shouted. “Before she lived with you and your father she was a woman of common sense, but the two of you seem to have sabotaged her mind.”