The crest still looked new in the centre of the envelope as though seven years had not passed at all.
My mother remained standing beside the table.
My father did not move either.
I looked from one to the other.
"You both knew this was here."
My mother answered first.
"Yes."
"For seven years?"
"Yes."
"And neither of you opened it?"
"It was addressed to you," she said.
"That has never stopped either of you from opening my bank statements."
"That was when you were sixteen."
"I was seventeen when this arrived."
My father folded his arms.
"You had made it clear you wanted nothing from Ashford."
"So you decided for me."
"No," he said. "You had already decided."
The envelope felt heavier when I picked it up.
"What if this had contained evidence?"
"We did not know that."
"That
