Mary Simpson said. “You don’t know how good it feels to be here with you,” said Carla. She cradled her hot tea mug and took a tentative sip. As awful as she felt, the comfort of being with her grandparents, in the house that held so many happy memories, went a long way to relieving her pain. At least she felt she could grieve there. She had held in tears through all the boat rides with Angelique, through her long wait at Nassau airport, through the flight and through the taxi ride to Turnham Green. As soon as they had opened the door and she’d seen their kind loving faces and the floral wallpaper, she melted into their arms with a river of tears. Charles sat at the table and stared at his hands. “I’m so sorry, Carla,” he said. “I thought he was a good man. I truly did.” Carla reached over to give him a hug. “It’s not your fault, granddad. He put on a very good act.” “Still, I should have seen through it,” he said. “My sweet girl.” “You couldn’t have known,”
