‘Who’s this? Your mum? Lovely, isn’t she? You’re very similar.’ She picked up another photo of me and my grandmother. ‘And this? Must be your grandma, is it? Got the same blue eyes as you.’

‘Yes, Gar. She’s called Gar.’

‘Still alive? Lucky you. All mine are either dead or on the other side of the world.’

‘She’s – she’s in a home near here.’ I felt utterly steam-rollered, aware I didn’t want to share anything with this stranger but helpless to resist.

‘Lovely.’ She rammed the picture back onto the dresser so hard that the mugs beneath swayed in the ensuing breeze. ‘You know, a few people commented on how alike we looked on the TV.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. Despite the obvious differences!’ She held up one of her dark ringlets, giggling. ‘And you’re so tall, of course – lucky thing! I think it might be our eyes. Although yours are more – more of a cornflower-blue than mine.’

I looked away, deeply perturbed now. ‘Maybe.’

‘Anyway, look, I expect you’re wondering why I came?’

I felt a great rush of relief. At least she realised this wasn’t entirely orthodox. ‘Well, yes, I was actually.’ For the first time I managed a genuine smile.

‘I mean,’ she giggled again, ‘it’s not just a social call.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘Sorry! No, look, I brought you this.’ She delved into her shoulder-bag and produced a brown A4 envelope, which she held out to me with reverence. I had a flash of my grandmother’s favourite priest, of the wine and wafer being offered at the altar. ‘I think it will really help, actually.’

I had a bad feeling about the envelope, an extreme feeling that pervaded my bones. I turned it over in my hands. I really didn’t want to open it. But it seemed I had no choice.

‘God, Fay.’ The photo I’d just extracted slipped from my clammy hand, spiralled down onto the tiled floor. Nausea mounted in me until I had to physically force it down. ‘What the hell is that?’

‘Oh Maggie,’ she peered at me, ‘you’re upset?’

‘Of course I’m bloody upset.’ I moved away from her. ‘Sorry, but I mean, what did you expect?’

I thought she was going to cry; I couldn’t look at her. ‘Honestly, Fay. I just – I don’t get it. Why would you give me that?’

She picked up the photo and proffered it again, with less certainty this time. I flinched.

‘Fay, for God’s sake!’