To Georgie now, it seemed more important to say the right thing. The right thing had to matter more than the true thing, whatever that was. The words just right came into her mind: what Hazel intended to do was right and it was just. This stranger with whom they shared DNA. Whereas, when Cass and Adam had discovered the value of the medal, they had not wanted to dispense it justly.

‘I’m sorry to say that Hazel isn’t wrong, our mother wasn’t kind to Stephen in the end,’ Georgie went on. ‘He was bundled away with almost indecent haste, none of us had the chance to say goodbye. I really regret that. I’m sure you do, too, Cass. I was angry with my mother for years, about that. I’m glad she at least did one generous thing by him. Nothing can make it up to you and your family, what happened to your brother. I can’t imagine how harrowing it must have been for you all. It must’ve been devastating for your parents. But what you’re proposing is lovely. It’s the best possible solution and I want you to know that I’m right behind you.’

Hazel’s eyes had filled with tears.

‘We’ll be taking legal advice, whatever you say,’ said Adam.

‘It won’t get you anywhere,’ said Georgie. ‘And I’m not going to come in with you on this.’

‘Thank you, Georgie,’ said Hazel.

‘Lord knows, you’re welcome,’ said Georgie.

20.

Before they left Cornwall, Hazel had asked Georgie if she’d like to come to Wales with them. But Georgie was contracted to voice coach on a film set in Romania, so it would be just her and Dawn, after all.

Neither of them spoke much in the car. There had been such a lot of talking at Stony Hill Farm; they were glad to be quiet in one another’s company. Georgie had followed them out to the car that last morning.

‘Keep in touch, won’t you? I’d love to hear how you get on in Wales,’ she said.

‘I will do,’ said Hazel.

The atmosphere between Georgie and the others had been frosty, once the visitors had gone. It had been a relief to get on the train and away from their reproachful looks. Even so, she had found herself unable to sleep that night, her mind racing. She’d suddenly remembered that her father had made a drawing – maybe more than one – of Stephen. The following morning she rang Hazel and promised that she’d go through his archive and search it out for her, next time she went to the farm.

‘Not that I’m expecting an invitation in the immediate future. They’re not thrilled with me, at the moment.’

‘Will it be OK?’ asked Hazel.

‘Yes, they’ll get over it, eventually. Cass will, in any case.’