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The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, swiftly growing closer. As Sally ran to open the front door, the room was thrown into disarray once again, and Fliss moved closer to Lord Oliver. His head rolled to the side and he looked up at her through filmy eyes. She knelt down beside him and reached out to him, placing her hand over his gnarled knuckles, blue veins protruding through the paper-thin skin. With effort, he spoke: ‘We never did have that talk, Fliss. And there are so many things I want to say …’

Fliss frowned in confusion, wondering what he meant, but there was no time to reply as Sally led the paramedics through to the dining room and the man and woman in their green uniforms put their equipment down and got to work. It was an incongruous scene, the woman helping stabilise Lord Oliver as Christmas dinner sat abandoned on the beautifully dressed table behind them, carols still playing in the background as the fairy lights twinkled on the tree.

The paramedics soon fitted an oxygen mask to Lord Oliver and gently lifted him onto a wheeled stretcher chair, moving quickly and professionally out of the house. The group followed uncertainly.

‘Sally, darling, could you get my handbag from the drawing room?’ Elizabeth asked calmly, as Sally nodded and rushed off.

‘I’m going with him too!’ Tara declared, as everyone came out through the main door into the freezing late afternoon. It was almost dark, a few flakes of snow dancing and twisting as they fell from the sky, caught in the beam of light cast by the open front door.

Lord Oliver was lifted into the back of the ambulance, its lights still flashing, illuminating the pale brick exterior of Clarendon Hall in harsh blue and white.

‘No, you stay here, Tara. I should go with Mummy,’ Bill insisted, climbing into the ambulance and sitting beside his mother.

‘We can only take one person – two, max,’ the paramedic relented, understanding that Lady Oliver shouldn’t go alone.

‘I’m not staying behind!’ Tara shouted, jumping in and refusing to budge. The paramedics exchanged glances but seemed to silently agree that it wouldn’t be wise to challenge her.

‘All right, but keep out of the way. We need unobstructed access to your father.’ The door slammed shut, and moments later the ambulance sped off, lights flashing, siren blaring.

The rest of them simply stood, shell-shocked, unsure what to do next until gradually, the cold forced everyone back into the house.

Fliss realised her hands were shaking with adrenaline. It was such a terrible thing to happen – and on Christmas Day! Her heart went out to Elizabeth, and to Bill and Tara too. Neville was their father, after all, even though they clearly didn’t appreciate him, their behaviour bordering on brattish.

Lord Oliver had always been good to Fliss and the memory of seeing him like that – prostrate on the floor of his own dining room, weak and helpless – made tears spring to her eyes. It had been clear from the moment she arrived that he was unwell, that he had become a shadow of his younger self, but Fliss had never expected such a dramatic turn of events.

She realised Kit was beside her on the top step. Their eyes met, and she saw his shock and distress. She placed a reassuring hand on his arm and was about to speak when her mobile began to vibrate in her hand. She hadn’t even realised that she had picked it up when they came outside. Fliss had the foolish thought that perhaps it was Lady Oliver calling to update her, but then she realised that was ridiculous – the ambulance had only just left the Hall. She looked down and saw her US agent’s name on the screen.

Fliss frowned, wondering why Martha was calling her. It would be mid-morning in New York – surely not just to wish her a Merry Christmas?

Kit looked at her expectantly.

‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ she said, lagging behind as she answered the call. Kit pushed the door almost closed to keep out the cold, leaving it ajar so that Fliss could get back in, as she walked back down onto the gravel driveway where just moments earlier the ambulance had been parked.

‘Hi, Martha,’ Fliss said, forcing herself to sound upbeat and focus on whatever it was that her agent had to say.

‘Fliss,’ Martha said, and with the tone of that one word Fliss’s stomach immediately dropped.

‘You’re not calling to say Merry Christmas, are you?’ Fliss said ruefully.

‘I’m afraid not. Fliss, I’ve had a call from the Daily Mail in London. They’re planning to run a story on you in tomorrow’s edition, and they wanted a comment from me.’

Fliss’s blood ran cold. So it was happening, finally. She should have known it couldn’t be kept under wraps forever. ‘What story?’

‘They’ve been contacted by a source telling them there are photos of you taking drugs early in your career. They’re asking me if I can confirm or deny.’

Fliss swallowed. The snow was getting heavier and it swirled around her, flakes hurling themselves at her as though they had a personal vendetta. She was wearing just the thin silk dress, but she didn’t seem to feel the cold; Martha’s news had left her numb. ‘Do they have the pictures?’

‘Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. And they must have something concrete if they’re confident enough to run it.’

‘Oh hell!’ Fliss stared out into the blackness around her. She knew that all around was wide open countryside, but right now it felt as though the walls were closing in on her. She had fled across the Atlantic to try and escape the scandal, but it had followed her. There was no outrunning her past. ‘Who’s doing this to me?’ she asked, her voice breaking in desperation.

‘I don’t know.’ Martha sounded exasperated. ‘I’ve been trying my hardest to find out. What about your friends Upstate, did they have any leads?’

‘No,’ Fliss replied. ‘A few ideas, but nothing concrete.’ She had FaceTimed Jeff and Henry whilst she was getting ready for Christmas dinner. It was only a few hours ago, but so much had happened since then that it felt like weeks had passed.

‘What do you want me to do?’ Martha asked.

‘Can you stall them for a few hours? Let me think about it. I’ll get back to you.’