Tears filled Joanna’s eyes. ‘Simon, I can’t take this.’
‘Of course you can. Zoe’s earning a fortune and my boss insisted on paying for all my expenses while I was in the States investigating Monica’s disappearance.’
‘Thank you, Simon. I promise I’ll make good use of it.’
‘I’m sure you will.’ He watched Joanna fold the envelope up and put it in her rucksack.
‘There’s something else in there too, something I thought you should at least have the satisfaction of reading,’ he added. ‘So . . .’ He pulled her to standing. ‘I’m afraid this is goodbye.’ He hugged her tightly to him.
‘Oh God.’ She wept on his shoulder. ‘I can’t bear the thought of never seeing you again.’
‘I know.’ He wiped her tears gently away with his finger. ‘So long, Butch.’
‘Take it easy, Sundance,’ she whispered.
With a small wave, he turned away from her. Only when he’d left the beach did she pick up her rucksack and walk down to the water’s edge.
Kneeling on the sand, she found a tissue to blow her streaming nose. Then she reached inside the envelope he’d given her, took out the sheet of paper and unfolded it.
York Cottage
Sandringham
10th May 1926
My darling Siam,
Understand that it is only my love for you that compels me to write this, the fear that others might wish to hurt you overriding care for myself or common sense. With God’s grace, let it be delivered to you without incident in the secure hands that bear it.
I must tell you the joyful news of the arrival of our baby girl. She has your eyes already, and perhaps your nose. Even if the blood that runs through her veins is not royal, your child is a true princess. How I wish her real father could see her, hold his child in his arms, but of course that is an impossibility, a dreadful sadness I must live with for the rest of my days.
My darling, I implore you to keep this letter safe. The threat of its existence to the few who know the truth should be enough to see you safely through life. I trust you will dispose of it when the time comes for you to leave this earth, for the sake of our daughter, and so that history may never record it.
I cannot write again, my love.
I am, yours forever
The letter was signed with the famous flourish, the photocopy not diminishing the magnitude of what Joanna had just read.
A baby princess, born into royalty, sired in the most extraordinary circumstances by a commoner. A baby that at the time was third in line to the throne, the chances of her succession small. But then, through a twist of fate, which saw others putting love before duty too, the baby princess had become a queen.
Joanna stood up with the letter in her hand, temptation to exact revenge for her own and other lives destroyed holding her tightly in its grasp. The anger left her, as quickly as it had come.
‘It’s finally over,’ she whispered to the ghosts who might be listening.
Joanna went to the water’s edge, tore the paper up and watched the pieces as they fluttered in the wind. Then she turned round and walked back to the Cabana Café to drown her sorrows in tequila.
Nursing her drink at the bar, Joanna knew that her new life began today. Somehow, she had to find the strength to embrace it – move on and put the past behind her.
Normally one would do that with the support of friends and family. She was totally alone.
‘How can I do this?’ she muttered as she ordered a second cocktail and realised that she’d been using Simon’s imminent visit as a lifeline. Now that was gone, the thread to all she had ever known was broken forever.
‘Oh my God,’ she whispered, as the full enormity of the situation hit her.
‘Hi there, got a light?’
‘I don’t smoke, sorry.’ Joanna ignored the male voice, with its strong American accent. Here in Mexico, men hovered around her like bees drawn to honey.
