I’ve been thinking a lot about your visit – why you came, what you said, what you didn’t say. I take your point about having to start somewhere, but is there any point in starting?

I don’t know what we can offer each other – two virtual strangers – at this stage in our lives. I’m not interested in reminiscing about a past we probably remember very differently. I’ve spent years working through the issues you created, and my focus is on the future which I can control, not the past, which I can’t. And I don’t need a father figure. Mum did a great job on her own.

This probably isn’t the email you were hoping for, and I’m sorry. One thing I’ve learned through my work is that you have to be clear about expectations, with other people but most importantly with yourself. My life is already pretty stressful, and I don’t need the additional stress of you dropping in and out of contact once or twice a year, purely to satisfy the idea of ‘being in touch’ with a daughter you don’t really know. I’m not the little girl you left. I’m much better and much worse than her.

But thanks for the nice words about Mum. We did have some happy times in the house, you’re right.

Love from Tara

Tara looked at the words on the screen – too formal, not really her – and pressed send. She didn’t even know if she’d get a reply, but at least it made her feelings plain to herself, if no one else.

Once she’d sent it, she turned her attention to the other painful task of the evening (why spoil two nights?): forwarding Justin’s post.

Tara and Justin had lived at 16 Otterburn Lane for three years and six months, and had entwined their lives to the point where mail addressed jointly still turned up in her redirection service.

Seeing Justin’s post mixed up with hers didn’t make Tara sad. The calling-off of their engagement seemed to upset Ruth more than Tara – ‘Can’t you give it another go? Justin’s perfect for you!’ – but as Tara had muttered many, many times to herself, Ruth wasn’t the one who had to stand there listening to Justin opine self-righteously about how he simply didn’t see colour or gender at work, while she did the washing-up.