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Charles stared at Rosie, a muscle twitching beneath his left eye. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘You told me that you didn’t know my mother but I think you were…’ She hesitated, unsure about using the word ‘lying’ and accusing him so bluntly of being untruthful. ‘I think you were mistaken.’
‘What would it matter if the letter were from me?’
‘It mattered to my mother at the time and it matters to me now. I found the letter hidden away and want to know the truth. Please.’
Charles walked across the room in his socks and sank heavily onto the sofa. His next words were so quiet, Rosie could hardly hear them. ‘I can’t believe she kept the letter all this time.’
‘So the letterwasfrom you?’
‘I could deny it but there seems little point now your mother’s gone and you’ve turned detective. If I answer your questions, will you keep the information to yourself?’
‘Of course, I have no intention of gossiping about my mum,’ said Rosie, reeling at the revelation that hehadlied. What else wasn’t he telling her?
‘Good.’ Charles settled back on the sofa and clasped his hands together in his lap. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Did you love her?’
Charles raised his eyebrows at that. ‘You’re very direct, aren’t you? Just like Sofia. That was one of the qualities I admired in her the most – the way she saw the world as a place to be conquered. She wasn’t afraid of anything.’
‘So did you love her?’ demanded Rosie, holding his gaze although her insides had turned to jelly.
‘What is the point in raking all of this up? It’s ancient history.’
‘Not for me. My mum’s not here and I’ve realised there’s so much I never knew about her. I’m asking you to help me fill in some of the blanks.’
Charles rubbed his eyes and stared out of the window for so long, Rosie thought she’d blown it. But then he sighed. ‘Perhaps this is better out in the open, as long as it stays in this room. Yes, I do believe I loved your mother. We had a relationship a long time ago, when she was about your age. You look so like her, it gave me quite a shock the first time I saw you. The years fell away.’ He continued staring into the garden, lost in thought.
‘How did the two of you meet?’
‘Through my younger sister, Evelyn. I was telling the truth when I said that Evelyn and your mother became friends. My sister was the patron of a local charity and your mother was a volunteer. They both had good hearts.’
‘So you began a relationship?’ Rosie raked her hands through her hair. ‘It’s hard for me to take in because you and Mum seem so different.’
‘Don’t people say opposites attract? I always thought that was rubbish until I met Sofia. I’d led a rather sheltered life – nannies, public school, top drawer university – and I’d never met anyone quite like her. She was a free spirit, brave, and full of life, but I don’t need to tell you that. She was dating your father when we met but she broke off the relationship when she and I’ – he hesitated – ‘grew fond of one another.’
‘I didn’t realise she was going out with Dad at the time.’
Charles nodded. ‘We didn’t mean to hurt him.’
‘But you did.’
‘Your mother dealt with the situation as kindly as she could.’
Rosie thought back to how disgusted she’d been with her dad for cheating on her mother twenty years ago. She’d thought there was no excuse, no good reason. But perhaps it was partly payback for what had happened to him a decade earlier.
‘We never expected to become so close because we came from such different backgrounds, and I was almost ten years older and supposed to marry Cecilia.’
‘Did Cecilia know about Sofia?’
‘She did, later.’
‘Poor Cecilia,’ muttered Rosie, wondering if that was when the woman’s softer edges had hardened.
‘Poor Cecilia indeed.’
‘Were you engaged to her at the time?’
