James
Beth, shadow-eyed from her long drive, flops onto her seat and Richard presses a glass of wine into her hand.
Charlotte sits next to Michael on the couch, jittery and fidgeting, constantly picking at her nails. The wine is excellent, but her glass is untouched, and she doesn’t look at Beth.
“And?” says Richard.
Beth holds up her hands, shaking her head slowly. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? Nothing at all?”
Charlotte looks up, her face stricken.
“Nothing at all,” says Beth. “I spoke to David and Stephen. They simply stone-walled me. Insisted that they never had a sister and that you're misremembering.”
Richard’s lip curls. “No, I’m not.”
Beth’s eyes dart across to Charlotte. Both women look upset. “I believe you my Love,” she says, “but I can't get anything out of them. They simply wo
