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reveals that under your uncle’s management Chase Racing was close to bankruptcy for years. If it hadn’t been Phelps, it would have been someone else.’
    Wyatt nodded grimly and rose. ‘Thank you for your time, John.’
    ‘Wyatt, a word of advice. You’re well clear of Phelps, he’s not a pleasant fellow. You’re like your father - I know you’ll make it.’
    When Wyatt left the Inns of Court, the sky was overcast and a light drizzle was falling. He thought of all the times his uncle had been with him during his childhood. If only he’d known how Danny was feeling inside. His father must have known the weaknesses in Danny’s character, that was why he’d always helped him.
    First his father’s death, now his uncle’s. And he had been instrumental in both. It didn’t bear thinking about.
    He took lunch at a nearby pub and then caught a cab to the cemetery.
    Wyatt nodded to a few close friends, then joined the pallbearers at the hearse. He hadn’t gone to the burial service: the stark ritual appalled him - and he didn’t need to be reminded of his father’s death.
    The coffin was heavy. Danny had been a big man, but a weak one. Suicide, as far as Wyatt was concerned, was the coward’s way out; everything in his own life had driven him to confront danger, not to avoid it.
    It wasn’t a long walk to the grave and he felt relieved when they let the coffin into the ground. The priest gave a brief service and then Estelle took the spade and threw the first sods over the oak case.
    Wyatt stared at her. It was hard to believe she was his mother. She might be in her late forties, but she had the face and figure of a young woman. She was here on her own - Carlos wasn’t with her.
    She looked up and stared back at him - a hard, uncompromising stare. He couldn’t resist his feeling for her, and walked over. He kissed her on both cheeks, but her look did not soften.
    ‘Wyatt, why did you not come to the service?’
    ‘I had business . . .’
    ‘You are lying. You never tell me the truth.’
    She stood very close to him, the long blonde hair falling across her perfect shoulders and the tailored black suit accentuating her curvaceous figure. He loved her. He hated what he had done to her by killing James in the accident.
    Her blue eyes flashed, and she took his arm and guided him away from the rest of the party. He felt her strength, and he knew that she was as much a part of him as his father.
    Behind some trees, she let go of his hand, then in a flash she raised her own, attempting to slap him hard across the face. She didn’t get near; he blocked her instinctively with a blow that bruised her forearm - an action that hurt him deep inside.
    ‘Merde !’ she spat. ‘It is you who are responsible for this!’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘’E left a note for me. ’E said you treated him like a dog and he was ashamed.’
    Her throaty voice tore at him. ‘It’s not my fault that he was a failure,’ he said defensively.
    ‘’E loved you. ’E kept that team for you. You broke him, saying those things!’
    Wyatt felt terrible, but contrived to appear cold and unmoved, unable to display the deep emotion he felt inside.
    ‘And what did you think I felt,’ he said, ‘when you accused me of killing Father? How do you think I felt?’
    She stood her ground. Most women were afraid of him when he was angry, but she was different, she always had been.
    ‘You are strong, Wyatt. But you should have cared. Don’t lie to yourself. You killed Danny with your words, as you killed James with your driving.’
    Wyatt gripped her arms and drew her to him. He wanted her to say that she cared for him. Deep down, he still hurt from the things she’d said over ten years before.
    ‘It was an accident.’ He enunciated each word bitterly.
    ‘You were driving too fast. That’s what the police said.’
    He let go of her hands, breathing deeply. ‘You can’t really blame me for Danny’s suicide?’
    ‘My God, Wyatt, do you