Unholy Murder

Chapter Twenty-five

‘How did it go with Meade?’ Jane asked Stanley as she and Boon walked into the incident room.

He waited until she was up close before replying. ‘It’s best we discuss it in Barnes’s office.’

‘I’ll give Julie Dorton a call about whittling, then join you,’ Boon said.

‘What’s whistling got to do with anything?’ Stanley asked with a bemused look.

Jane laughed. ‘Whittling, as in carving wooden animals. It might be integral to the investigation.’

‘You’ve totally lost me,’ Stanley said.

‘I’ll explain why after you’ve told me about Meade.’

‘Do you want a coffee?’ Stanley asked.

‘That would be nice,’ Boon replied.

‘Then get us a coffee when you’ve finished your phone call,’ Stanley said, handing him a pound note.

‘Where’s Barnes?’ Jane asked, seeing he was not in his office.

‘The commissioner wanted to speak with him,’ Stanley said, sitting at Barnes’s desk.

‘Has the shit hit the fan?’ Jane asked.

‘We won’t know for sure until Barnes gets back. Sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.’

‘Do you want to wait for Boony?’

‘You can fill him in later.’ Stanley proceeded to tell Jane about the meeting with Meade.

Jane listened carefully, taking notes so she could compare what Meade had said with everything they knew so far about him.

‘Meade totally distanced himself from knowing Sister Melissa. But he lost his composure when Barnes suggested he offered sweets to the kids for “ulterior motives”.’

‘Does Barnes really think that? We’ve had a lot of calls from people who were at the orphanage. Not one of them has alleged sexual abuse.’

‘Barnes was just trying to goad him. You could see Meade was getting hot under the collar... excuse the pun.’

‘I’ve got a feeling Meade and Missy were in a relationship. It may even have been sexual,’ Jane said.

‘You’re kidding me!’ Stanley exclaimed.

‘Why shouldn’t priests and nuns have sexual desires like the rest of us?’

‘Is that a come on?’ he grinned.

‘Piss off,’ Jane retorted. She then told him about the photograph in which she thought Meade and Missy were touching hands.

‘Maybe he led her on just to get in her knickers, she got upset, then...’

‘What is it with you men and sex?’ Jane said testily. ‘Or are you speaking from experience?’

Stanley held his hands up. ‘Blimey, it was only a suggestion.’

‘What did Meade say when Barnes asked how he knew Melissa’s nickname?’ Jane asked.

‘He didn’t ask.’

‘Why not? Evidentially, that would be enough to arrest him and interview him under caution.’

‘Archbishop Malone walked in at that point. He didn’t recognise Barnes until he told him he was the officer who investigated Stephen’s suicide... then said he suspected Malone was involved and there’d be no cover-up this time.’

Jane winced. ‘I bet that didn’t go down well.’

‘It was like a red rag to a bull. Malone asked us to leave and said he’d speak with the commissioner. Which, by the looks of things, he has.’

‘I worry Barnes’s loathing of Malone and the Catholic Church over Stephen Phillips’ suicide is clouding his judgement.’

‘We all have our demons, Jane. The death of a child is one of the hardest things to deal with as a police officer.’

‘I know, but pissing off the archbishop won’t help our investigation.’

He shrugged. ‘Barnes is in charge and we have to do as he says, like it or not.’

Boon walked in. ‘I got a positive result with Julie Dorton about the whittling.’

Stanley sighed. ‘For Christ’s sake, would somebody explain this whistling thing — I mean, whittling.’

‘Shall we just call it wood carving if it’s easier for you?’ Jane teased.

‘Call it what you bloody well like. Just tell me what happened at Canvey Island,’ Stanley said.

Jane told him about Sister Margaret’s condition and the conversation they had with her.

‘I’ve got to say Boony was brilliant with her. If it wasn’t for him...’

‘If she’s as nutty as a fruit cake we can’t rely on anything she said,’ Stanley remarked.

Boon frowned. ‘That’s a bit harsh.’

‘I don’t have any sympathy for sadists who take pleasure in beating young children,’ Stanley said bluntly.

‘Neither do I. But calling someone with dementia a fruit cake is offensive,’ Boon replied in the same tone of voice.

Stanley huffed. ‘She’d forget it in two seconds if I did.’

Boon shook his head. ‘It’s nothing to joke about.’

‘Who’s rattled your cage?’ Stanley asked.

‘You have, sir.’

Stanley leaned forward. ‘Who do you think you are talking to, son?’

Jane was afraid Boon was about to say something he’d regret. She kicked his foot.

‘Please, stop this bickering,’ she said quickly. ‘We’re all under a lot of pressure. Arguing amongst ourselves will get us nowhere.’

‘Sorry, sarge,’ Boon said. ‘Sorry, guv.’

Stanley sat back. ‘OK, tell me about this whittling thing you uncovered.’

Barnes’s desk phone started to ring. Stanley picked it up.

‘How did it go with the commissioner, guv?’

Stanley didn’t say anything as he listened to Barnes. A minute later he put the phone down.

‘What did Barnes have to say?’ Jane asked.

‘Not much. He sounded really pissed off. Malone made an official complaint to the commissioner about Barnes’s behaviour. He also said he signed a dispensation order for Sister Melissa, which—’

Jane interrupted. ‘I’ll bet no one’s actually seen it.’

‘Malone said he can show us the document. The commissioner has an official meeting with him tomorrow.’

‘It could be forged and backdated,’ Boon suggested.

‘Possibly,’ Stanley said. ‘But it could also be genuine. Malone told Julie Dorton in 1962 that he was going to sign a dispensation. If he was trying to cover up Melissa’s murder it makes sense the dispensation was issued back then.’

‘Is Barnes coming back here?’ Jane asked.

Stanley shook his head. ‘He’s going home. He wants everyone in the incident room for a nine o’clock meeting when he’ll brief us all on what the commissioner said and where the investigation is going from here.’

‘That doesn’t sound good,’ Boon remarked.

‘I have an awful feeling history might be repeating itself for Barnes,’ Jane said.

Stanley shrugged. ‘We won’t know until he’s briefed us, Jane. For now, we crack on as normal.’

Boon removed the little owl from his pocket and put it on Stanley’s desk. ‘Mother Adele made this. As well as lots of other animals, she also made a ladle for Sister Margaret, like the one she used to hit the kids with. Obviously, she had to use a knife of some sort.’

Stanley raised his hand. ‘I get where you’re going with this. The problem is, we can’t rely on anything Sister Margaret said.’

‘That why I spoke with Julie Dorton. She confirmed Sister Margaret was a keen whittler. She said she kept little animals she made on her study desk and had a small box in which she kept an array of different whittling knives.’

‘All very interesting but circumstantial,’ Stanley said.

‘We can’t just rule out Mother Adele as a suspect,’ Jane said. ‘Julie also told us Mother Adele was ambitious. She saw herself as the next Mother General and fantasised about having a private audience with the pope. If Missy threatened to expose her cruelty and drinking, her ambitions would have been destroyed.’

‘True,’ Stanley agreed. ‘But I don’t think Barnes will buy it. He’s convinced Meade is responsible.’

‘We have to tell him what we know about Mother Adele so he sees there are other possibilities,’ Jane said.

‘I’ll leave that to you two, then,’ Stanley said.

‘Thanks a lot,’ Jane replied.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘You both know this case better than any of us. I suggest you sit down and compile a report detailing all the evidence you have against Mother Adele and Meade. Stick to the facts and don’t forget to consider a joint enterprise.’ Stanley handed Boon the owl.

Jane found herself remembering Barnes’s Sherlock Holmes quote: ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’

Returning to the incident room, Jane thought about phoning Nick, but knew if he was surly again it would really upset her and she wouldn’t be able to focus on compiling the evidential report. Boon went to the canteen to get a sandwich and a drink for both of them.

‘The Bromley SOCO dropped off some photos for you, sarge,’ the female civilian indexer said, holding up a large envelope. ‘DS Johnson, the lab sergeant, asked if you’d call him regarding the seeds in the victim’s stomach.’

Jane thanked her and took the envelope to her desk. The only photo she was really interested in was the close-up of Meade and Missy’s hands. When she looked at it closely, her suspicion was confirmed. Their hands were touching, with their little fingers entwined together.

‘I got two cheese toasties with tomatoes and a bowl of chips. Is that OK?’ Boon said, carrying in a tray of food and two coffees.

‘It’s fine, thanks. Have a look at this,’ she said, showing him the photograph.

‘Bloody hell, you were right. That’s a strong bit of evidence for the report,’ Boon said.

‘It’s enough to arrest Meade,’ she said, ‘since he’s denied knowing her. And what you said about him using Missy could be right. If she threatened to expose their relationship, he’d know he’d be defrocked.’

‘It also makes it more likely she went to the presbytery the night she left the convent,’ Boon suggested.

‘Only Meade knows the answers. I think Barnes will arrest him when he sees this photo. It proves beyond a doubt he’s lying through his teeth. What time are you meeting Becky Rogers?’

‘It’s supposed to be seven o’clock at The Chequers in Bickley. I’ll phone her and cancel,’ he said.

‘No, you won’t,’ Jane said. ‘We’ve got a couple of hours yet. If we haven’t finished by half six, I’ll complete the report.’

‘Thanks, sarge,’ Boon beamed. ‘I gave the owl carving to the SOCO. He said he’ll take it up to the lab in the morning to see what kind of wood it’s made from.’

Jane phoned Lloyd Johnson at the lab.

‘I got a message to call you about the seeds in Melissa’s stomach.’

‘Right. We got a botanist to look at them. Turns out they are Digitalis purpurea seeds, which are poisonous and commonly known as—’

‘Foxglove,’ Jane interjected

‘How did you know that?’ Lloyd asked.

Jane explained about the Scott Davies calendar.

‘Bloody hell, that was a good find,’ Lloyd said.

‘So how does it work as a poison?’ Jane asked.

‘The botanist said foxglove contains digoxin, which is commonly used as a drug to treat cardiac arrhythmia because it slows the heart rate down. Large doses can cause symptoms like vomiting, giddiness and unconsciousness. In excess, it slows the heart rate so much the brain becomes starved of oxygen; the body’s reflex response is to try and increase the heart rate, which can result in a heart attack and death.’

‘So you’d have to have a good knowledge of plants to know how to use it?’ Jane asked, thinking of Mother Adele.

‘I’d say so. The botanist said there have been many cases of accidental poisoning due to foxglove penetrating the skin when handled without gloves. People have even unwittingly made tea from the leaves and poisoned themselves. It has also been used to murder people. The botanist told me of a case where a German doctor killed his girlfriend with it. Under the guise of conducting a physical examination, he placed digoxin on his glove and administered the poison rectally...’

Jane winced at the thought. ‘Yes, thank you, Lloyd, I get your drift. I’ll need to get Sam Pullen’s opinion on the poisoning angle.’

‘I already have. She said it’s most likely the seeds were put in Sister Melissa’s food or a hot drink at the last meal she had before she was killed.’

‘Julie Dorton said Sister Melissa was very emotional and incoherent the last night she saw her.’

‘That makes sense. Pullen said the poison could have a delayed reaction of up to eight hours. She also suggested it was possible, when Sister Melissa was first strangled, that the fear factor caused her heart rate to accelerate so much she became unconscious.’

‘So whoever strangled Sister Melissa might have thought she was dead and put her in the coffin,’ Jane suggested.

‘That’s exactly what Pullen suggested. She’s going to get a specialist to examine the heart for any signs of damage due to sudden cardiac failure. I’ve got to say, whoever had it in for Sister Melissa was determined to kill her one way or the other.’

‘Now you’ve told me this, it seems likely the Mother Superior was involved. We also found out she made herbal remedies from garden plants, so she must have known what was and wasn’t poisonous.’

‘Have you been able to trace her?’ Lloyd asked.

‘Yes, to a grave in Hackney. She died a few years ago.’

‘So if others were involved, they could put the blame on her.’

Jane sighed. ‘I know. This investigation gets more and more complicated by the minute. Thanks for calling.’

‘I’ll say a prayer and hope for some divine intervention,’ he joked.

‘Worth a try,’ she said, putting the phone down.

After Boon had left for his date, it took Jane another hour to finish the report. Having read it twice, she was satisfied everything of evidential value was in it. She was leaning towards Barnes’s view that Meade had killed Sister Melissa, but it was clear others had to be involved in the cover-up or at least knew the truth of what had happened. She was still suspicious of Thomas Durham and Lee Holland because they’d lied to her, but she was no closer to finding out why.

She was just about to leave when the indexer’s phone started ringing.

‘Orpington incident room, how can I help you?’

‘I’d like to speak with Detective Sergeant Tennison, please.’

She recognised the Canadian voice. ‘Hi, Inspector Tremblay, it’s Jane speaking.’

‘I’m with Melissa’s parents, Lawrence and Fiona Bailey. They showed me her birth certificate and letters she wrote home when she was at the convent. I’ve told them about your investigation and the likelihood the victim is Melissa. Mr Bailey would like to speak to you,’ Tremblay said.

‘Of course,’ she replied.

These were the conversations Jane dreaded. It was never easy talking to a parent who had lost a child, and even harder when they had been murdered. Jane knew the Baileys must have suffered years of torment wondering what had happened to Melissa. Their last physical contact would have been the day they lovingly embraced her, aged eighteen, as she left home to devote her life to God. Then, nine years later, she would go silent and they would never hear from their daughter again. Not knowing where Melissa was, or how she was being treated, must have driven them to the depths of despair. All they would have wanted was to know Melissa was alive, safe and well, but now their worst fears had become a reality.

‘Thank you for finding us, detective. My wife and I have always dreaded this day would come. I have to ask, but are you sure it’s Melissa?’ Lawrence asked.

‘I’m sorry, but all the evidence points towards Melissa being our victim. We recovered a cross engraved with her initials and the date she took her vows. Sister Julie Dorton, a good friend of Melissa’s who was also at the convent, has identified it as being hers.’

‘Melissa often spoke about her in her letters. She said Julie always cheered her up when she felt homesick.’

‘How often did Melissa write to you?’ Jane asked.

‘Once a month, which was what she was allowed under the convent rules. There were a couple of times we didn’t hear from her for two or three months, but it didn’t worry us at the time.’

‘May I ask why not?’

‘She did say in a letter that one punishment for breaking the rules was the withdrawal of writing privileges, so we assumed that was why there were sometimes gaps between her letters. Melissa could be a bit hot-headed and impulsive. She often got in trouble at junior high school for speaking her mind. In fact, I think she spent more time in detention than she did in the classroom. Then when she was seventeen and decided she wanted to be a nun she calmed down.’

Jane recalled Julie Dorton mentioning the sister’s letters were checked and edited by the Mother Superior, thus making it impossible to write anything negative about the convent or life there to family or friends. Although Jane thought she knew what Lawrence’s answer was going to be, she still had to ask her next question.

‘Did Melissa ever write about wanting to leave the Sisterhood or anything that was troubling her?’

‘No. She’d tell us about the work she did in the convent, the orphaned children and how much she loved them. She often said she missed us and hoped if ever we were visiting the UK we could come to the convent and see her. Regrettably we never got the opportunity,’ he added, his voice tinged with sadness.

‘Can you recall when Melissa last wrote to you?’

He took a deep breath before continuing. ‘The fifth of August 1962. The day of her twenty-seventh birthday. She said Julie was baking a cake for her.’ His voice started to tremble. ‘We became concerned when we hadn’t heard from Melissa for nearly six months. I asked the advice of a Canadian detective I knew here in Kingston. He contacted Bromley police on our behalf about our concerns.’

‘Do you know the name of the officer he spoke to?’

‘Detective Jim Harris. I spoke with him a couple of times myself.’

‘Did he carry out an investigation?’

‘He told me he visited the convent and spoke with the Mother Superior who informed him Melissa had left in August as she no longer wished to be a sister. He also said the bishop had granted her a dispensation, allowing her to leave.’

‘Do you know if Detective Harris recorded Melissa as a missing person?’ Jane asked.

‘He said he would, and he’d also make some local inquiries, but beyond that there wasn’t a lot more he could do. At the time I thought Melissa might have been embarrassed about telling us she’d left the sisterhood. I thought she would eventually make contact with us... but now I know why she didn’t.’

‘Did you have any further contact with Detective Harris?’

‘I called him a couple of times, but he told us there were no further developments. A year later I travelled to London and went to Bromley police station. I spoke with a sergeant who told me Detective Harris had retired. He checked the station missing persons records and told me Melissa’s file was still there, but there was no update on her whereabouts.’

It was clear to Jane that DC Harris had accepted Mother Adele and Bishop Malone’s word as gospel and let her missing person file gather dust in a filing cabinet. Worse still, he hadn’t even bothered to notify the Missing Persons Bureau at Scotland Yard.

‘Did you make any other inquiries while you were in London, Mr Bailey?’ Jane asked.

‘I went to the convent, but it was closed down. I spoke with a priest at the local Catholic church. He told me there had been a fire at the convent and it was going to be sold.’

‘Can you remember the priest’s name?’ Jane asked.

‘I’m sorry. It escapes me now.’

‘Do you remember exactly where the church was?’

‘Yes, it was just down the road from the convent.’

Jane knew it was St Mary’s. ‘Did you ask the priest if he knew Melissa?’

‘He said he didn’t but he offered to make some inquiries at the diocesan offices for me. I spoke with him again a couple of days later. He said he’d spoken with the bishop who showed him the letter of dispensation he’d signed for Melissa to leave the sisterhood. He told me the bishop said all the convent sisters’ details had been destroyed in the fire, and there wasn’t a lot the Church could do to help me find Melissa because she had renounced her faith and left the convent. But he was very understanding. I gave him my address and phone number in Canada. He said he’d contact me if he heard anything about Melissa’s whereabouts. But I didn’t hear from him again.’

‘Did he mention the bishop’s name?’ Jane asked.

‘Probably, but again, I can’t remember now. I didn’t know what else to do, so I returned to Canada. I hoped and prayed that one day Melissa would contact us, but as the years went by Fiona and I knew something bad must have happened.’ Jane thought she could hear him choking back a sob.

‘I’m deeply sorry for your loss, Mr Bailey. Our investigation is progressing quickly and I believe we are getting close to discovering who killed your daughter.’

‘Do you have any suspects?’ he asked.

‘Yes, but legally I can’t tell you who they are at present. We hope to make some arrests in the next few days. I will phone you to update you. If you want to speak to me, or there’s anything else you remember that might be important, just call me in the office. If I’m not here leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.’

‘Do you think someone at the convent killed her?’ he asked, sounding bitter.

‘We are looking at a number of possibilities. I can tell you Melissa had packed her suitcase and was going to leave the convent. We think she may have been killed on the night she tried to do so. It would be wrong of me to speculate any further... but rest assured we will find whoever was responsible for her death.’

‘I hope you do. Inspector Tremblay asked about Melissa’s dental records. I have them. The Kingston officer who advised us said it would be worthwhile getting them from our dentist in case our fears became a reality, which they now have. I was thinking of flying over to view Melissa’s body and arrange for her to be flown back to Canada for burial.’

‘That’s understandable, Mr Bailey. I will speak with the coroner and ask if Melissa’s body can be released. He will probably ask for a second post-mortem to be done first. I will call you as soon as I’ve spoken to him.’

Lawrence started to cry and must have handed the phone to Tremblay, because his was the next voice Jane heard.

‘I’ve had the dental records and your faxed copy taken to our forensic odontologist. I’m expecting a result in the next hour or so. I’ll get straight back to you when it comes in,’ Tremblay said.

Jane thanked him and said she would be on her home number in half an hour.

When she got home, Jane poured herself a glass of wine and waited for the phone to ring. It wasn’t long before Tremblay called.

‘Melissa had a filling, a chipped tooth and two wisdom teeth removed when she was sixteen so braces could be fitted. Your odontologist noted the same in his report regarding the chip and missing teeth. It would seem Melissa Bailey is your victim. I’ve faxed a copy of our odontologist’s confirmed identification and Melissa’s dental record to double check your end. I also phoned Mr Bailey to let him know the result. As you can imagine, he and Fiona were even more devastated having their fears finally confirmed. Lawrence wanted to fly to the UK tomorrow, but I persuaded him it was best to wait until you’d spoken with the coroner.’

‘Thanks for all your help, inspector... especially for informing the Baileys. I know it can’t have been easy.’

Tremblay sighed. ‘They say knowing what happened to a loved one is supposed to give some kind of closure, but the truth is, it never does. I wish you well in your investigation. Please let me know the outcome.’

‘I will,’ Jane said, and put the phone down.

She found herself thinking of Nick again and started to dial his home number but stopped halfway through. She was tired, it had been a stressful day and she didn’t think she could deal with an emotional argument.

Jane finished her glass of wine then went upstairs to change into her pyjamas. As she closed the bedroom curtains, she noticed a green Range Rover go past her house and stop about forty yards up the road. The streetlights were too dim to be able to read the number plate, but Jane suspected it was Nick’s car. She switched the bedroom light off, then peered through the curtains and watched as the driver did a U-turn and parked up. If it was Nick, she wondered why he didn’t park outside her house. She waited to see if the driver got out of the car, but there was no movement. Then, as a small car drove past the Range Rover, its headlights lit up the driver.

‘What the hell are you playing at?’ Jane said to herself, watching Nick sink down in the driver’s seat.

Jane put her slippers on, hurried downstairs and opened the front door. She heard the Range Rover’s engine start and watched as it slowly pulled away from the kerb with no lights on. She walked into the middle of the road and stood with her hands on her hips blocking the way. The car stopped in front of her, and she marched up to the driver’s side window.

‘Are you bloody well spying on me?’ she demanded.

Nick slowly wound down the window, shame-faced. ‘No. I was trying to build up the courage to knock on your door and talk to you.’

‘Did you come here last night as well?’ she asked brusquely. Nick nodded.

‘We definitely need to talk, then,’ she said, spotting Gerry watching from his living-room window.

‘Are you seeing—’ Nick began.

‘Not out here!’ She stomped indoors.

Nick parked his car and followed her inside.

‘What the hell is going on, Nick?’ she asked as he entered the living room.

‘I saw you kissing another man,’ he said. ‘If there’s someone else, I’d rather you just told me and ended our relationship.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘There’s nobody else. It certainly wasn’t me you saw kissing someone.’

‘I know what I saw, Jane,’ he replied.

‘Where and when was this supposed to have happened?’

‘Yesterday afternoon. I’d just left my father’s place and saw you outside the house next to St Mary’s. You were with a tall, dark-haired man in a grey tracksuit. You were touching his arm... then you hugged and kissed him.’

Jane was dumbstruck as she realised Nick had seen her with Father Chris.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ Nick asked, accusingly.

Jane let out a big sigh. ‘Yes, it was, but you’ve misread the whole situation. The man you saw is Father Floridia. He’s the priest at St Mary’s. I didn’t kiss him... he hugged and kissed me. It was one small parting peck on the cheek — but believe me, I was as shocked as you were.’

‘Then why were you touching his arm?’

‘He’d been helping me with the investigation. He was upset about Sister Melissa’s murder — so much so that he was questioning his role as a priest. I was just trying to comfort him, that’s all.’

‘Why did he kiss you then?’

‘It was a final goodbye. He’d been told by his superior not to speak to me again. We both thought it best we didn’t have any further contact. He wished me well with the investigation and kissed me on the cheek. I was surprised because I didn’t think it was the sort of thing a priest would do.’

‘Exactly! You must have encouraged him.’

‘This is ridiculous! I did nothing to encourage him.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Well, it’s the bloody truth! If you don’t believe me there’s nothing more to be said and we may as well end our relationship here and now!’ Jane snapped.

Nick was taken aback. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘Well, you have. If you want this relationship to work, we need to trust each other.’

‘I know. I’ve been a complete and utter idiot.’

‘Yes, you have, by jumping to the wrong conclusions. If I’d told you about Father Floridia, then I suppose none of this would have happened. I wondered why you were being so off with me on the phone.’

‘My head was all over the place. To be honest, seeing you with another man was like a flashback to some really bad memories which made me panic and overreact.’

‘What were they?’ Jane asked, knowing it was to do with his wife.

‘I’m divorced. I was married for two weeks then my wife ran off with my best man. I’d never suspected for one minute she’d been having an affair with him. At the time I felt so humiliated, I became depressed and didn’t go out socially for a long time.’

‘That’s awful. Why on earth did she go through with the wedding?’

‘She said she was confused and didn’t know what to do. She thought she still loved me but realised, after the wedding, she didn’t. The truth is, Brenda didn’t give a toss about me before or after the wedding. What also hurt was a friend of mine suspected the affair but didn’t have the guts to tell me. I know if I’d been in his position, I would have said something.’

‘I’m so sorry, Nick... you didn’t deserve to be treated like that.’

‘I shouldn’t have doubted you, Jane. Stupidly, I thought the priest must be your boyfriend. I even wondered if you were using me to find out more about the building site and convent. Can we put this behind us and move on... or would you rather I just left?’

Jane knew she ought to be honest, but couldn’t bring herself to tell Nick she had initially considered going out with him to learn more about his father. ‘I understand now why you reacted like you did. If I’d been in your shoes, I’d probably have felt the same.’ She reached out, took hold of his hand, and drew him closer. ‘I want to move on in our relationship, Nick Durham. So you can leave... but not until the morning.’