‘And the child.’ Fern interrupted. ‘If you don’t let us in, we’ll tell them.’ She glanced behind her at the sea of microphones and flashing lights. ‘Everything.’
There was a second of silence. Then a sharp mechanical click.
The gates creaked open.
Daniel looked at her. ‘We’re in.’
‘I can’t quite believe it.’
Side by side, they stepped through the gates, the noise of the press fading behind them, swallowed by the gravel crunching beneath their shoes as they followed the sweeping curve of the path towards the house. Once again, the front door opened before they could knock. Alistair stood there, his face stern, his mouth drawn in a tight, disapproving line. His eyes, cold and sharp, flicked from Fern to Daniel. He stepped aside. ‘Come in,’ he muttered, though there wasn’t a hint of welcome in his voice. He led them through to the sitting room and shut the door with a quiet finality.
Before he could speak, Fern did. ‘I understand this is a bad time,’ she began, ‘but we want to see Nathaniel.’
‘Do you really think that is possible or what he needs right now?’
‘I’m not here to distress him,’ Fern said. ‘I just want to speak to him. Just a conversation.’
‘You can speak tome,’ he snapped. ‘About whatever ludicrous stories you’ve managed to concoct.’
‘They’re not stories,’ Fern replied firmly. ‘And you know it. We have the original manuscript. We have the tape showing Matilda composing the piece. We have dates, and handwriting comparisons. We know what he did to Matilda. We know what you did to make Nathaniel as rich and as famous as possible. How could you tell a woman who had just given birth that her baby had died?’ She stared at Alistair with contempt. ‘You hoped the secret would stay buried, but it didn’t.’
Alistair paled, but his tone remained sharp. ‘You don’t understand the consequences of this.’
‘I understand them perfectly. I also understand that if Nathaniel dies without setting the record straight, the fallout will land squarely on you,’ Fern stated clearly. ‘Because you’re the one who manipulated everything to protect his legacy and your own interests. If this story breaks, you’ll be the face of a fraudulent musical scandal. The man who let a genius’s work go uncredited, who helped cover up the truth about a child, and stood to inherit the fortune of a dying composer that was built on a lie.’
Alistair’s voice dropped to a hiss. ‘Do you think blackmail will get you what you want?’
‘I’m not blackmailing you,’ Fern said. ‘But I am a journalist, and from Monday the editor of the most established music magazine in the UK. It won’t take me long to write and circulate this story, which I can guarantee will hit the world news by midday on Monday. You can try me if you don’t believe me. I’m giving you a choice, Alistair. Let me speak to him, now, so we can give him the chance to tell the truth himself. Or we walk back down that drive and I’ll write an exclusive.’
He stared at her, every muscle in his face taut with fury.
‘What exactly do you want from him?’ he spat. ‘Money? We can give you money just to go away and leave him, us, in peace.’
‘I don’t want your money. I just want the truth.’
‘And then what?’
‘That depends on what he says,’ Fern replied. ‘But I’m not walking away from this. Not now.’
For a long moment, Alistair looked at her and Fern could see the fear in his eyes. He was losing control. He knew it and she knew it, and she wasn’t going to let this go. He was scared of Nathaniel saying something unscripted. Something dangerous. Something… honest.
He drew a slow breath, but the fight in him was faltering.
‘I’ll see if he’s awake,’ he said curtly, and left the room.
Daniel moved to Fern’s side. ‘Oh my God, you were brilliant. Do you really think he’ll let us see him?’
‘He doesn’t have a choice anymore,’ she whispered. ‘Not if he wants to keep even a shred of Nathaniel’s legacy intact.’
ChapterFifty
Two minutes later, Alistair returned to the sitting room. ‘He will see you.’
Immediately, they both stood up.
‘Just Fern,’ he said firmly. ‘You can wait there.’
Fern and Daniel exchanged a glance before Daniel said it was fine and motioned for her to go ahead. Fern reluctantly left Daniel in the sitting room and followed Alistair down a hallway that led to an outside door. They crossed a small stone courtyard then entered another building. Alistair paused outside a large oak door. ‘He’s very weak,’ Alistair muttered, avoiding her eyes. ‘Do not stress him out or expect too much.’
