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Albert leaned over and put his mug down on the bookshelf near his chair. His thick eyebrows knitted together in a frown. ‘Didn’t I tell you to leave well alone?’ His gaze drifted from Abigail to Carys. ‘I made myself clear, didn’t I? No good will come out of finding out the truth – for any of you.’
Abigail noticed the old man’s gaze drifting to Oliver.
‘I didn’t appreciate you calling me stupid,’ said Carys. ‘There’s nothing stupid about wanting to know the truth.’
Everyone on the sofa nodded in agreement.
‘We took a DNA test,’ said Oliver, glancing at his sister, who nodded.
Albert remained silent. Abigail stared at him when she realised something. ‘You’re not asking what the results were because you already know – don’t you?’
He didn’t deny it.
She leaned forward in her seat, hands clasped together. ‘Tell us what happened that night, Albert. I know it’s got something to do with Toby and Joyce.’ And she suspected it had something to do with Oliver, too.
Hugh raised his eyebrows. ‘Albert, if you know something, tell me, because according to those tests, Oliver is not my son.’
‘That’s right – he isn’t.’ Albert looked across the room at Oliver. Everyone sat in stunned silence, unprepared for what was coming next.
‘He’smyson.’
