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Her capacity to understand grief in herself and others was a revelation. Beyond understanding was acceptance without judgment. He’d never met anyone like her. She didn’t passively surrender to destiny; she fought adversity with every breath in her.

Bitterness, that’s what he realised. There was no bitterness in her.

The waiter arrived and several minutes passed while he served their meals and topped up their water glasses.

“Looks delicious.” She gave a wan smile. “Once—Papa apologised to me once about Mari. It’s another reason why I can’t walk away.”

They ate largely in silence, occasionally commenting on the food or passers-by.

“Did you look after Sophie?” Hamish asked, watching a waitress remove the plates.

“No. Besides,” she said, raising still more questions about the Vella household, “my brothers were twelve and fourteen. They couldn’t be expected to look after themselves, nor would Papa consider boys having a share in household duties. That’s why Aunty came out from Malta.”

“She’s no Mariella Debrincat.”

“She understands the role of women in a traditional family. Her father didn’t believe in education beyond primary school. Family—rather”—she flung a hand in the air—“the men in the family know what’s best.”

“And she’s still breathing?” he asked, appreciating that Lela had been the glue in her family, the constant in Sophie’s life. She saw her niece as an individual, saw the changes as Sophie grew to womanhood.

“Now I sound like a horrible, ungrateful brat.” She frowned. “Aunty worked relentlessly to keep a clean house, to make sure we were all washed, brushed, fed and well looked after.”

“‘Relentlessly’ sounds bleak.” Emotional blackmail was equally raw—he’d never applied that term before to Olivia’s readiness to ignore police warnings and risk their unborn child, but Olivia had wanted to bend Hamish to her will. “Does your aunt love you?”

Concern for Lela drove the question, but it catapulted Hamish into an abyss he’d refused to explore.Did Olivia love me before she died?When the arguments about his work had increased? You could cope with a lot if love was the bedrock beneath your feet.

“In her way. Poor woman, she doesn’t understand me. Can’t understand why I have to fight.”

“Were you lonely?” He could admit now, he’d been lonely towards the end of his marriage.

* * *

“MORE OFTEN THAN I LIKE.” Lela would think about Hamish and loneliness later. “But I’m not a subject for pity. I have friends, a social circle outside my family. Good, loyal friends, both male and female, who grew up with me, who knew I was planning for Sophie’s future as well as my own.” Although quite a few men walked away when they learned Lela and her family were a package deal.

Lela let the silence lengthen, waiting for their coffees to arrive. She thought back to the conversation in Marty’s office, her discovery that Sophie was considered underage in Malta, and her question outside the Debrincat home. “Would a Maltese court prosecute Peter? Hamish, did you hear what I said?”

“Sorry, my head was elsewhere.” He brought his gaze back from the far horizon.

“Could Peter be prosecuted? What do you think?”

“Under ordinary circumstances, probably not, but if your father presents his medical evidence that Sophie has started showing symptoms of mental ill-health and is being taken advantage of, I’d be pushing for a conviction.”

“That’s an outrageous lie.” Appalled, Lela pushed back from the table.

“Your father asked me to keep it to myself, unless absolutely necessary to bring Sophie home. He said you wouldn’t accept the evidence.”

“There is no evidence.” She scowled.

“You’re saying he falsified a medical report?” He searched her face, his voice carrying a hard edge.

“What did it say? When was it dated?” Panic rose along with her rage.

“That her behaviour has changed in recent months,” he said. “She’s talked of being spied on, followed, has had some unexplained emotional outbursts. Dated about a month ago.”

“She didn’t see a doctor, especially not a psychiatrist. I’d have known. I’d have been present,” Lela muttered, indignation electrifying her. “She’s a normal teenager, pushing the boundaries to test her independence.”

“Are you sure?”

“Papa’s gone too far this time.” She dared him to repeat the claim. “Was there a diagnosis?”