‘I…’ Gladys looked at Bob and then she looked at the carpet. ‘He said he had a proposal for you,’ she muttered, defensive. ‘What would you be wanting with a proposal?’

Rose nodded. Two proposals in two weeks. The one facing her here made the other one seem mild in comparison.

But what Gladys had just said firmed things for her. If she agreed to have a child, a daughter would never be enough. If she finally had Max’s son, then the child would be a living memorial to Max. What crazy reason was that to bring a child into the world?

‘It seems I’m needed,’ she said, thinking it through as she spoke. ‘I mean…needed by someone other than you. By someone other than my dead husband’s family and his community. When I first read the letter I thought it was crazy, but it seems as if it’s not crazy after all. Or no more crazy than this. Either way, I’m going to find out. I’m going to London to see if I’ve inherited a crown.’

CHAPTER TWO

THE restaurant Nick had organised as a rendezvous was a good one. It was old-fashioned, full of oak wainscotting, linen table-cloths, and individual booths where people could talk without struggling to hear or worrying about being heard.

He walked in and Walter, the head waiter, met him with the familiarity of an old acquaintance. ‘Good evening, Mr de Montez.’ He looked at Nick’s casual Chinos and cord jacket and he smiled. ‘Well, well. Holiday mode tonight, then, sir?’

Holiday. Yeah, maybe this was his holiday. Nick hardly did holidays at all, so he might as well term this one. Oh, every now and then he’d fly back to Australia to see his foster mother, Ruby, with whom he kept in touch and phoned every Sunday without fail. He skied now and then with a few important clients, but mostly Nick lived to work. He was on holiday tonight because he’d donned casual clothes. That’d do him for while.