Finally, we ended our day looking at wedding dresses. It felt like I reviewed a million of them, each eliciting comments from all three of the girls, ...nd tried on three that I liked, only to reject one as soon as I saw it on me. The other two we marked for further review when Donna could be there, and the store was happy to make a note of the two we had liked. Before it was over, I would be trying on dresses at five different wedding shops, but not that day. Allison took pictures of the two. That was the grandfather whose funeral you attended five years ago. As your mom and your dad grew up together they were well aware that they were not related and feelings for each other grew. In the middle of the night during one of our parties, I had them slip away with the officer's help. They got married and your father was commissioned the following week. Your mom had an alias email address and we worked out a code so that your grandfather could never find out where the k**s were. He was. You want to model for me? I’d really like that!” “No, don’t be silly! I was thinking of trying them on while you were out!” she laughed, but then she saw the disappointed look on his face. “You were serious? You’d really want me to do it?” she asked. “No, you're right, it was a silly idea.” he said. “You're too young, anyway.” He went over, took the slinky blue dress out of her hands, and hung it back up. “I guess I really am desperate if I’m hitting on the baby-sitter.” he mumbled. . The face in the photo on the coffee table, belonging to some aging, bald, jowly man in an expensive suit, was vaguely familiar. Beside that photo was another, a stern-looking mature woman with a mane of blonde hair. ‘His name is Arthur Michaels. He’s a spad. Er, special advisor,’ Tamsin said. ‘They say he’s in line for a Lordship some day. The woman in the photo next to him is his wife, Diana. She’s not the second subject.’ ‘Who is?’ ‘I’ll come to that in a moment. Look here.’ Another photo.