But right now she knew she must concentrate on the coming interview with Gran, in which she intended to tell the older woman that she had, admittedly accidentally, seen Edie’s birth certificate. She was still wondering how to approach such a ticklish subject when she reached the ward, and after their initial greeting and the handing over, on Tess’s part, of a small bunch of hothouse grapes Gran looked up into Tess’s eyes, indicated that she should sit down on the visitor’s bench, and opened the subject herself.

‘You know, don’t you?’ she said quietly. ‘Albert said yesterday that you had been giving him strange looks ever since you took him my document wallet. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that you saw something in it to make you suspect that you’ve been told an untruth.’ She smiled at the younger girl. ‘I’ve been wondering what on earth it could be, but that really doesn’t matter now. What matters is that I must come clean. Please don’t be cross with me, darling Tess; whatever I did I did for the best.’

Tess leaned over and took Edie’s hand. ‘We’ll both stick to the truth from now on,’ she said gently. ‘And I’ll start by telling you that I didn’t look inside the wallet on purpose. I didn’t close the clasp properly and when I picked it up several papers fell out. Oh, Gran, I saw your birth certificate! You were born in 1905, weren’t you? And since I was born in ‘33 that would make you an awfully young grandmother, isn’t that so?’

Gran sighed. ‘Yes, you’re quite right, but that’s not the case because, dearest Tess, I’m not your grandmother at all. I never had children; my husband, darling Fred, and I wanted a family, but he died after we’d only been married for two years. Your real grandmother and I were friends, though she was twenty years older than me, and I knew she’d had a daughter who’d died and a granddaughter who’d been evacuated. So when she died just before the end of the war it seemed to me that you looked like ending up in a children’s home. When you evacuees came home in September ’45, I went to the dispersal point to see who would claim you, and there you were, looking so lost and bewildered that my heart went out to you. When the social services officer called out your name – Theresa Jane Williams – and asked if there was an Edith Williams present I stepped forward, and from the look on your face it was as though the sun had suddenly come out. You said “Gran!” and I said “Tess!” and that set the seal on it. I had intended to tell the officer the truth, of course, but I didn’t because with that one hug I knew I had what I most wanted: a little girl I could love and guide, a companion who was also my dead friend’s grandchild. After that it was plain sailing. I was Edith Williams, the same as your real gran, and you were Tess Williams.’ She pulled a rueful face. ‘And now I suppose you’re going to desert me and go off in search of proof that your mother really is dead, or even to try to find your father, although I’m not sure that even your real grandmother knew who he was, because I’m told that that’s what adopted children usually do, and I suppose, in a way, you could be considered my adopted granddaughter.’