‘That’s right,’ the woman said. ‘Dad said he was leaving everything to me. He said I deserved it after all I’d been through.’
Another fake sob. Maybe I’d had too many years of being cynical. I tried harder to be sympathetic. ‘Er, I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.’
‘Madeline,’ she said. ‘Madeline Grant. And this is my brother, or half-brother, Jamie. I should have been Madeline Macclesfield, but my mum and dad never married.’
‘So your mum wasn’t Wendy?’ I asked. I’d met Wendy, Macca’s ex-wife, a couple of times. She was good fun, a tall boisterous woman with a deep laugh. She and Macca had parted ways when he bought the hotel and she decided she couldn’t stomach living in the backblocks.
‘No way!’ Madeline snapped. ‘That b***h did Mum and me out of the life we could’ve had with Dad
