He laughed. ‘All right, pet. Whatever you say.’

He was like that, always willing to indulge her without actually considering what she was saying, much less what she was thinking or feeling.

At fourteen all she saw was the indulgence. It had been just the two of them since her mother had died two years before. Frank Solway, successful manufacturer of electronic products, and his bright, pretty daughter.

He had factories all over Europe, continually moving the work to wherever the labour was cheapest. During her school vacation they travelled together, visiting the outposts of his business empire, or stayed at Belleto. The rest of the time she finished her schooling in England. When she was sixteen she announced that she was finished with school.

‘I just want to live at Belleto from now on, Dad.’

And, as always, he said, ‘All right, pet. Whatever you like.’

He bought her a horse, and she spent happy days exploring the vineyards and olive groves that formed part of Belleto’s riches.

She had a quick ear, and had learned not only Italian from her grandmother but also the local Tuscan dialect. Her father spoke languages badly and the servants who ran his house found him hard to understand, so he soon left the domestic affairs to her. After a while she was helping with the estate as well.

All she knew of Frank was that he was a successful businessman. She never suspected a darker side, until one day it was forced on her.

He had closed his last factory in England, opened another in Italy, then taken off for Spain, inspecting new premises. During his absence Becky went for a ride and found herself confronted by three grim-faced men.

‘You’re Solway’s daughter,’ said one of the men in English. ‘Frank Solway is your dad. Admit it.’

‘Why should I deny it? I’m not ashamed of my father.’

‘Well, you damned well should be,’ another man shouted. ‘We needed our jobs and he shut down the English factory overnight because it’s cheaper over here. No compensation, no redundancy. He just vanished. Where is he?’