womb.’
‘But they’d have needed to compare the child’s DNA with mine. I haven’t given a sample so they can’t have.’
‘They got a sample from the other man in her life and compared it with that,’ Ellie said. ‘The result was positive. I’m afraid there’s no doubt he’s the father. You’ll find it here.’
He took the paper she held out. Ellie tensed, waiting for the storm to break. This man couldn’t tolerate being defied, and the discovery of his soon-to-be ex-wife’s treachery would provoke an explosion of temper.
But nothing happened. A terrible stillness had descended on him as he stared at the message that meant devastation to all his hopes. The colour drained from his face, leaving it with a greyish pallor that might have belonged to a dead man.
At last he spoke in a toneless voice. ‘Can I believe the test?’
‘I know the lab that did it,’ she said. ‘They are completely reliable. I’m afraid it’s true.’
Suddenly he turned away and slammed his fist down on the desk.
‘Fool!’ he raged. ‘Fool!’
Her temper rose. ‘So you think I’m a fool for telling you what you don’t want to know?’
‘Not you,’ he snapped. ‘Me! To be taken in by that woman and her cheap tricks—I must be the biggest fool in creation.’
Her anger faded. His self-blame took her by surprise.
His back was still turned to her, but the angle of the window caught his face. It was only a faint reflection, but she managed to see that he had closed his eyes.
He was more easily hurt than she’d suspected. And his way of coping was to retreat deep inside himself.
But perhaps a little sympathy could still reach him. Gently she touched his arm.
‘I know this is hard for you,’ she began.
‘Nothing I can’t cope with,’ he said firmly, drawing away from her. ‘It’s time I was going. You know where I’m staying?’
‘Yes.’ She named the hotel.
‘Send my bill there and I’ll go as soon as it’s paid. Sorry to have troubled you.’
He gave her a brief nod and departed, leaving her feeling snubbed. One brief expression of sympathy had been enough to make him flee her. But then, she reflected, he hadn’t become a successful businessman by allowing people to get close. For his wife he’d made an exception, and it had been a shattering mistake.
Ellie got back to work, setting out his bill then working out a response to the lawyer’s letter. It took her a few minutes to write a conventional reply, but when she read it through she couldn’t be satisfied. Something told her that Signor Fellani would dislike the restrained wording.
Yet is there any way to phrase this that wouldn’t annoy him? she wondered. He seems to spend his whole life on the verge of a furious temper. Still, I suppose I can hardly blame him now.
She rephrased the letter and considered it critically.
I should have done this while he was here, she mused. Then I could have got his agreement to it. Perhaps I’d better go and see him now, and get this settled.
She went to find Rita.
‘I have to leave. I need to talk to Signor Fellani again. My goodness! Look at the weather.’
‘Snowing fit to bust,’ Rita agreed, glancing out of the window. ‘I don’t envy you driving in that.’
‘Nor do I. But it has to be done.’
She hurried outside to where her car was parked, and turned onto the route that led to the hotel. It was about a mile away, and the last hundred yards took her along the River Thames. Driving slowly because of the snow, she glanced at the pavement, and tensed at what she saw.
He was there by the wall, staring out over the river. A pause in the traffic gave her time to study him as he stood, wrapped in some private world, oblivious to his surroundings, unaware of the snow engulfing him.
She found a space to park, then hurried across the road to Leonizio.
‘Signore!’ she called. ‘I was on my way to your hotel. It’s lucky I happened to notice you here.’
He regarded her, and she had a strange sensation that he didn’t recognise her through the snow.
‘It’s me,’ she said. ‘Your lawyer. We have business to discuss. My car’s waiting over there.’
‘Then we’d better go before you catch your death of cold.’
‘Or you catch yours,’ she retorted. ‘You’re soaking.’
‘Don’t bother about me. Let’s go.’
She led him across the road to where two cars were parked, one shabby, one new and clearly expensive. He headed for the shabby one.
‘Not that one,’ Ellie called, opening the door of the luxury vehicle. ‘Over here.’
‘This?’ he demanded in disbelief. ‘This is yours?’
Obviously he felt that the decrepit little wreck was more her style, she thought, trying not to be offended.
‘I like to own a nice car,’ she said coolly. ‘Get in.’
He did so, and sat in silence while she took the wheel and drove to the hotel. As she pulled into the car park he said, ‘You’re shivering. You got wet.’
‘I’ll be all right when I get home. But first I must come in and show you the letter I wrote to your wife’s lawyer.’
The Handrin Hotel was famed for its luxury, and as she entered it she could understand why. The man who could afford to stay here was hugely successful.
They took the elevator up to his opulent suite on the top floor. Now she could see him more clearly and was even more dismayed by his condition.
‘I’m not the only one who’s wet,’ she said. ‘You were standing too long in that snow. Your hair’s soaking. Better dry it at once, and change your clothes.’
‘Giving me orders?’ he asked wryly.
‘Protecting your interests, which is what I’m employed to do. Now get going.’
He vanished, reappearing ten minutes later in dry clothes. He handed her a towel and with relief she undid her hair, letting it fall about her shoulders so that she could dry it. When he joined her on the sofa she handed him the bill, and the letter she planned to write to his wife’s lawyer.
‘I suppose I’ll have to agree to it,’ he said at last. ‘It doesn’t say what I really think, but it might be better not to say that too frankly.’
‘You’d
