"Personally, I can't condone what... the relationship they shared, but I...1 can't totally condemn them for it, either. I just thank God that I've never been in that position.

I've loved your mother from the moment I set eyes on her. I know it was the same for your uncle and Martha. I guess as a family we're just kinda made that way. "

Ryland said nothing. Now was not the time to tell his father how instantly and completely he had fallen in love with Tara; that kind of father- and-son bonding and sharing was not something he wanted to be overshadowed by the horror of the black tragedy his father was beginning to reveal to him.

"How do any of us know how we would have reacted had we, like Margot, fallen in love with someone too close to us in blood? I guess we all like to think that we'd have seen the danger signs in time and removed ourselves from the situation, turned aside from it. Margot..." He paused and shook his head.

"Margot made Lloyd the centre and the focus of her whole life. He was her whole life."

Ryland frowned. His father wasn't telling him anything he didn't know already.

"Lloyd felt the same way about her he reminded his father.

"Otherwise he wouldn't--' " Lloyd loved her, yes his father hastened to agree.

"But his feelings were never as intense, as compulsive if you like, as Margot's, and I suspect that in many ways he continued with the relationship because he was afraid of what Margot might do if he didn't... I don't actually know that that was the case," he stressed.

"I'm simply saying that with hindsight... Well, after it had been confirmed that Lloyd had perished in the fire with Margot and Martha, I got in touch with our UCLA office." He stopped and shook his head.

"A couple of hours later, we had a telephone call from a... a college professor whose book Lloyd had been going to publish. She asked if she could fly down to see us." He paused again and poured himself a second cup of coffee, then offered Ryland another one. Ryland shook his head.

"From what she had to tell us," his father continued after taking a sip, 'it seems that she and Lloyd had become very close. close enough for them to be talking about having a future together. He'd told her about Margot, and it seems he'd also told her that he was going to tell Margot that. that the physical side of his relationship with her had to end.

"Lloyd and Jamie Friedland had only known one another a matter of weeks, from what Jamie told us--and I have no reason to doubt her. She isn't a girl but a very mature and intelligent woman--they both felt strongly enough about one another to believe... She told us that Lloyd had said he was in love with her, and I've no reason to suspect that that wasn't the truth.

"She also said he'd told her that he owed it to Margot and everything they'd been to one another to tell her what had happened and to spend a little time with her, helping her to come to terms with the change he wanted to make in their relationship.

"She did say that Lloyd had confessed to her that his feelings for Margot had changed over the years and that while he still loved her very much as his cousin, he no longer felt the same physical passion for her that she still felt for him.

"Additionally, according to Jamie, Margot had been deluging Lloyd with pleading phone calls begging him to return to the island and demanding to know what or who was delaying him. She also said that some of the calls had ended acrimoniously and that Margot had, on more than one occasion, threatened to take her own life if Lloyd did not return.

"She told me that she had begged Lloyd to be very careful about what he said to Margot and that she had even suggested he try to persuade her to see a trained counsellor.

"None of us is ever going to know exactly what happened or what Lloyd did or did not say to Margot. All we do know from the evidence that's been found is that someone, more than likely Margot herself, deliberately started the fire.

"From the forensic evidence and... and the autopsies, it's also pretty clear that both Margot and Lloyd had been drinking and that they were very heavily drugged with barbiturates. Margot had a prescription for sleeping pills. The police thought at first that their deaths might have been a mutual suicide pact--given the nature of their relationship that certainly could have been a... a possibility. I guess people had an inkling about what was going on between the pair of them and I guess, too, that out of sympathy, folks ktnda turned a bit of a blind eye to it.

Your aunt Martha was very well thought of in the area. She's done a lot of good there.

"The chief of police told me that when they interviewed her housekeeper, Esme, they had to as good as tell her that they knew about the relationship between Lloyd and Margot before she would open up to them about it.

"My reckoning is that knowing Lloyd was about to leave her, Margot spiked both their drinks with the sleeping pills, having previously gathered together everything she needed to start the fire."

"But Aunt Martha ... surely Margot didn't...?"

"I don't know, son," his father told him sorrowfully, shaking his head.

"None of us will ever know. According to Esme, she had left a cold supper ready for Margot and Lloyd, who had gone out for a walk.

Lloyd had arrived on the island only that morning and Esme told the police that he seemed on edge and anxious. Margot had driven down to the harbour to pick him up, but she said that when they came back to the house there was a lot of tension between them.

"It was Esme's day off and she was just about to leave the house--Lloyd and Margot had already set out for their walk--when the phone rang. When she took the call, it was Martha announcing that she had decided to come out to the island a couple of days ahead of the weekend but that Esme was to go ahead and take her time off. She told Esme to drive the Jeep down to the harbour and leave the keys in it for her, which was exactly what Esme did."

"So Margot might not necessarily have known that her mother was in the house?"

"Possibly not. We know that she and Lloyd ate the supper Esme had prepared for them. Presumably, Lloyd had told her about Jamie and his plans for the future during their walk. Whether that was when Margot decided to do what she did, or whether she made that decision later, no one will ever know.

"All we do know is that at some stage she took a large can of kerosene from the generator room into her room. She emptied her closet and, we think, soaked her clothes and the room with the kerosene.

"We know that at some point she must have gone with Lloyd to his room, which is where they drank the barbiturate-laced wine. Perhaps she made a last-ditch attempt to persuade him to change his mind. Anyway, while they were there, Martha must have arrived but went straight to her own room without letting them know she was there.

"Having failed to convince Lloyd to change his mind--and according to the police report, both Lloyd and Margot must have been feeling the effects of the wine and the barbiturates by that time--Margot left Lloyd to make her way back to her own bedroom. Once there..." He stopped and bowed his head.

"The police doctor said it would have been over very quickly. The smoke alone..."

"Oh, my God," Ryland breathed, expelling the words on a long sigh.

"It doesn't bear thinking about. Do you think Margot actually knew what she was doing or...?"

"Who knows? She wasn't always easy to understand. It was as if there was a part of her nature that had just swung that little bit too far over the edge, made her just intense enough to be dangerous. I always felt very sorry for her, but I have to confess I felt more sorry for your aunt Martha.

"I'll never forget the look on her face when Margot told her that she'd never have children, that she'd been sterilized. We were all there. It was one Labour Day weekend and you kids were down on the beach. After Margot had run out in tears, Lloyd went after her to comfort her. Your mother and I were alone with Martha.

'"What have I done?" " she asked us. '" Where have I failed? " We tried to tell her that she wasn't to blame ... that Margot was just.. Margot."

There was a long silence while the two men looked at one another.

"He's yet to confirm it officially to me, but from what the chief of police has told me privately-and as nothing can be proved, since none of us knows exactly what was in Margot's mind, whether she actually intended to kill herself and Lloyd or whether, in fact, she even knew consciously what she was setting in motion-Margot's death will be recorded as a suicide and Lloyd's and Martha's deaths as accidental.

"It was always your aunt Martha's wish that she be interred in the family crypt in Boston to be with your uncle."

"And Lloyd and Margot?"

His father shook his head.

"Perhaps the kindest and best thing we could do would be to arrange for them to be buried with Aunt Martha--it is after all a family crypt and that way at least they could be together."

"In death if not in life," Ryland said quietly.

"Yes, your mother said the very same thing," his father returned, then clearing his throat, he went on, "I'm not sure yet how long it will be before we can go ahead and make the necessary arrangements. I've already been in touch with Martha's attorney. There'll be a formal reading of the will, but as you already know, you are Martha's heir.

There are various charitable donations and gifts, of course, but as far as the bulk of her own private fortune is concerned and the shares she inherited from your uncle in the business, they go directly to you. "

"The girls?" Ryland began thinking of his sisters, but his father immediately hastened to explain.

"The girls will receive substantial bequests to be held in trust for them, but I'm afraid that the main burden of your aunt's assets and wealth falls on your shoulders, Ryland." Placing a consoling arm around his son, he tried to comfort him.

"At least you'll have your Tara to share it with you."

Ryland gave his father a bleak look.

"What is it?" his father asked in concern. Tara doesn't know yet, about. about the money.

I.

haven't told her.

I.

was going to but I was just waiting. " he began as he saw the worry inhis father's eyes."I should have told her, I know," he admitted."I guess I didn't want to risk spoiling things between us. She won't like it, Dad. Not for herself, but for our kids.

She'll--' "She'll like it even less that you haven't been up front with her," his father warned him quietly.

"I know," Ryland agreed sombrely. It was too late now to regret that he hadn't found--made--the opportunity to discuss what lay in the future for him and Tara, the future that was now the present. He closed his eyes, flexing his tense shoulders.

He could almost feel the heavy weight of his aunt's millions pressing down on them already.

"I should have told her," he admitted to his father.

"But I guess I was afraid of putting her off. I thought I'd have time to prepare her.

I told myself there were years yet before Aunt Martha. Hell," he swore under his breath as the full reality of what his aunt's death meant began to hit him.

"I can't tell her over the phone, and the business--' " Yes, I was just about to come to that," his fan ther agreed.

"I hate to put more pressure on you, son, but right now we do need you here. The company's attorney needs to see you as well as your aunt's. I've set up meetings for tomorrow in Boston. And a formal company announcement will have to be made to the effect that you'll be taking over from your aunt."

As his father continued to talk about the problems his aunt's death was causing in the day-today running of the company, Ryland felt his attention and his thoughts beginning to drift.

Tara. Why hadn't he looked into the future and foreseen that something might happen to his aunt? Why had he waited so long--left it so late?

1 ara woke up abruptly, feeling totally disorientated. There was a sour tell-tale taste in her mouth and her head felt as though it was filled with a mass of gritty wire wool. She was lying on an unfamiliar sofa in an unfamiliar flat.

She tried to sit up and then stifled a small groan as the room swam giddily around her. The clock on the wall showed that it was half past four in the afternoon.

She had a vague memory of being in a restaurant with one of the girls from work who kept on insisting that she have another drink.

She tried to sit up again and this time she made it. From the room on the other side of the slightly open door, which opened off the small living room, she could hear quite plainly the sound of a couple having sex.

Grimacing to herself, she swung her feet to the floor. The events leading up to her inebriated agreement to return with Estelle to her flat were slowly beginning to come back to her now.

She shuddered. Heavens knows how many glasses of wine she had had to drink. Too many, that was for sure. It had certainly been a mistake to come back here with Estelle. She had never particularly liked the other girl and she had liked t even less the gossip she heard about her at work. t During lunch, Estelle had talked quite openly c about her sex life, even boasting about the men t she had had, and Tara had gained the distinct 1 impression that it had not been love or even lust i that motivated her to be with them, but rather i money.

i "Oh, come on," she had taunted when Tara gri- i maced over a particularly distasteful incident she was relating to her.

"Don't tell me that you haven't been tempted to try something like that." ^ "Bondage isn't my scene," Tara had responded ] quite truthfully.

( Not her scene perhaps, but no doubt it had ] played an important part in her mother's, her real j mother's, repertoire. All the time Estelle had , been boasting about how easy it was to get men to pay for the use of her body, Tara had been writhing inwardly, wondering if it was because there was something inherent in her, something she had perhaps inherited from her birth mother J that made Estelle aware. that made her talk to her so openly. Which was, no doubt, why she had gone on drinking even after she knew she had reached her limit, Tara acknowledged miserably.

"You should give it a try. You might even find you like it," Estelle had goaded her.

"No, never...1 couldn't. Tara had shuddered in genuine revulsion.

' Listening to her even through her increasingly drunken dizziness, Tara abruptly had known deep within her soul and with unquestioning certainty that there could only be two reasons for her ever having sex, both of which were based on love--one being the love she might have for her sexual partner and the other being the love she had for whomever it was she was trying to protect by having sex with a man she did not love. To have sex for money as her mother had done was simply not an option she could ever envisage herself taking. There were, after all, other ways to earn money.

And with that knowledge had come the first small lifting of the black cloud of despair that engulfed her when she had learned the truth about her parentage.

She might be Katriona's child, but she was her own person. Katriona might have earned her living by selling her body, but Tara knew that she could not, would not, ever do the same.

Shakily, she got to her feet, picked up her bag, which was lying on the floor at her feet, her shoes and jacket, which were on a chair, men quietly tiptoed towards the door so as not to disturb the occupants of the bedroom.

As she stepped out into the street, she saw her car was parked outside the flat even though she had no knowledge of having driven it there, and she certainly didn't feel she was in any fit state to drive it anywhere now, she acknowledged. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a cruising taxi and immediately hailed it.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked her laconically as he stopped for her.

Just about to give him the address of her own flat, for no reason that she could think of, Tara heard herself saying instead, "I want to get a train to Dorchester, but I'm not sure which station I need."

"Dorchester. You'll want Waterloo, then, luv," the cabbie told her, swinging the cab around in an illegal U-turn with a screech of tyres that made her aching head thud sickeningly.

Nervously, Tara sat back in her seat, her heart pounding and her stomach churning in a way that had nothing to do with the wine she had drunk earlier in the day.

"Your mother originally came from a small village close to Dorchester," Claudia had told her quietly when she demanded this information.

"Her father, your grandfather, was a schoolteacher at a public school there."

Claudia had protested that she loved Tara for herself, but Tara felt that wasn't the truth. How could it be? If that had been, would Claudia have gone to such lengths to keep her true parentage a secret from her? If she hadn't been ashamed of who Tara's mother had been, then why had she said nothing?

"I love you," Claudia had told her in tears and perhaps she had. but only as a second-best, a make-do-and-mend. How could any woman love another woman's child as much as she could love her own? How could a woman like Claudia love the child of a woman like Katriona?

No, Tara had convinced herself that Claudia loved her because she had had to. She just wasn't sure which of them had hurt her the most--her birth mother for being what she had been or Claudia for being someone she wasn't.

How was Ryland going to feel when she had to tell him? There was suddenly a frighteningly empty space in her life where the person she had always assumed herself to be had been but where now there was only a stranger. She was a stranger to herself, she admitted forlornly as the taxi pulled into the station.

Estelle grumbled mildly in complaint as Blade pushed her away and started to get off the bed.

"Come on," he ordered her, "I think it's time we went and woke up your little sleeping beauty, don't you?"

"She's going to need careful handling," she warned him.

"She's not some homeless kid, Blade. She's got friends, family and--' " Don't worry, by the time we've finished with her, complaining to her friends or her family is going to be the last thing on her mind, and just in case she does get awkward, I've brought something with me guaranteed to make her do as she's told. "

Estelle started to relax. Getting Tara drunk had been easier than she expected, and after making sure she was fast asleep, she had telephoned Blade to tell him what had happened.

"I'm coming right over," he had told her with that purring note in his voice that told her he was pleased with her, 'and if she's as good as you're telling me, I'm going to be very pleased with you. Very pleased with you indeed. "