A lot happened in the following weeks.

I’d partially recovered from my accident, but my head hurt, which I expected. As long as I took care of myself, I’d be fine.

I was back home in my apartment, pleased to be in my own surroundings once more. Jake’s presence caused friction between Bex and me. Not wanting or needing the aggravation, I didn’t put up a fight when she told me she was moving in with her boyfriend.

Still, I was sad to see her go, it was the end of an era, but my life had changed so much in the last few months, it seemed right she found her own happiness. We promised to stay in touch. I was happy within myself. My life had changed so much, but it was as it was meant to be.

I’d spoken to my mum on the phone every day since she returned home. It was a strange feeling seeing the word Mum flash on my phone screen, but I’d miss her if she wasn’t there, even after this short space of time. I realised that much already. Even though we still had a lot of ground to cover and bridges to build, there was hope for the future, and that was more than I had a few months ago.

Before I devoted more time to my mum, Declan and I decided to continue our quest to discover the truth of what happened to his mother all those years ago.

We knew Jack O’Malley had tracked my mum down and surmised what he hoped to gain by her finding me. But it wasn’t going to divert my attentions. I didn’t like being manipulated, and neither did Declan, so we decided to play him at his own game. The not so saintly Bishop didn’t know anything about Jake, so while I recovered, Declan went back to work, leaving Jake to do some digging around. He was surprisingly good at it.

As we suspected, Declan was due to be transferred to another part of the country, far away from me and any temptation that might fall his way.

Jack mistakenly thought he’d won, but when we had the evidence we needed, he’d be lucky to be working as a church cleaner.

I had my own concerns about Declan’s mother and how she’d died. In my heart, I believed she’d been pushed by the Bishop, his last chance of keeping his own dirty little secrets locked away.

The three of us didn’t get together much. We were worried the Bishop had people watching us. But it was easier to talk face to face, so Declan had come around to Jake’s for dinner the previous night. It was a nice, but slightly awkward evening. The two men I loved the most sat around the same table.

“I don’t want to admit it to myself, but I think Jack is my father,” Declan said.

I nodded. “Mrs Wharton said the Priest looked like you, so I came to the same conclusion.”

“So why doesn’t he just tell you who he really is? I don’t get it?” Jake interjected.

“Priests aren’t allowed to have sex, let alone father illegitimate children.” He looked troubled. “And if he had some sort of illicit affair with my mum, a nun, it would be scandalous for the church and Jack’s own personal ambition within the church.”

“Okay, I get that,” Jake said. “But why send you to that home? His sister ran it and you said he was there often. Why?”

“Just because he couldn’t admit to being Declan’s father doesn’t mean he didn’t love him like a son.” I said. “Maybe it was the only way he could live with himself – keep Declan, or Bradley, as he was back then, close and make sure he was looked after.”

“I didn’t have half as bad a time as you did in the home, Matty.”

“Looking back, you’re right. I never thought anything of it at the time,” I said.

“The little gifts left for me – the cakes after dinner, random trips out.” Declan looked lost in thought. “It all makes sense, but how am I going to prove Jack is my father?”

“That’s easy,” Jake said. “A home DNA testing kit. Get him round to your place, give him a drink, then bag the glass and send it off to the lab. I’ll pay for it.”

“Quite the sneak, aren’t you,” Declan said, chuckling.

“I’m not just a pretty face.” Jake winked at me.

“Are you sure it’ll work?” I asked.

“Positive, and this way, you’ll know for sure, and if he is your dad, he won’t be able to deny it.”

“You’re way too smart,” I said, leaning in to kiss him. I noticed Declan look the other way.

“Yep,” Jake said. “And I’m smart enough to know, we need to do more digging on the nun who died. There must be a way we can find out who she was, and if she has any living relatives.”

“How will we do that?” Declan asked.

“I’ll go to the library in the morning and scan old newspapers for possible relatives mentioned in any articles.” Jake was turning out to be very useful.

“And I’ll go back and speak to Mrs Wharton, see if she can tell me anymore about what happened back then,” Declan replied.

“I’ll come with you,” I said.

“You won’t,” Declan and Jake said at the same time.

“I’ll take it easy.”

“No,” Jake said. “You need to rest.”

“Forget it,” I said, resolute. “I’m going.”

Jake shook his head, but he knew me too well. If I was going to do something, then nobody was going to tell me otherwise.

“Then we have a plan.” Declan looked at us both.

“Yes,” Jake agreed, “but first things first, get Jack round to your place for dinner. Schmooze the hell out of him and after he’s finished his first drink, get the glass, bag it up, then replace it with a different glass. He’ll never suspect in a million years but take no chances – that guy’s as slippery as an eel.”