‘And did he ever want to find his father?’

‘Too late, I’m afraid. He died, of a heart attack, backstage, when George was only six. So he never got the chance.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘In a way, I’m glad. Oh, not that he died. I did love him while we were together. Or thought I did. But it was probably for the best that George never got the chance to track him down. I’m not sure he would have been welcome, if you know what I mean. A dirty little secret well buried, as far as his so-called father was concerned …’

‘He knows who his dad was though? I do think it’s important for all of us to know where we came from, don’t you?’

‘Oh, yes, I told him his father’s name. His real name, anyway. Jeremy, which is what I always called him. Not the stage name that everyone else knew him by, just in case he blabbed it at school or something.’

‘He was famous then?’

‘Yes, he was, in theatrical circles anyway, which just made everything harder somehow. More important to keep the secret. But I was honest about him being a lot older than me, and that he was already married. I suppose I painted him in as bad a light as I could, to stop George wanting to ask too many questions, but I’m not sure it worked. He soon figured out who his dad was, as soon as he was a teenager and old enough to get access to a computer. It was easy enough to read about his brilliant career and to find photos of him on the internet. He knew what I was telling him was true, and that his father probably did have a wife somewhere, although Jeremy always kept his family life well out of the limelight. Obviously, there was no mention anywhere of him having a son. His father had clearly written him out of his life, disowned him and abandoned me, but, of course, I still ended up being the bad guy.’

‘All long ago, Madalyn. You did what you felt was best for your son, and for you. And he’s a grown man now. Able to see things from an adult perspective, understand why you had to do what you did.’

‘True.’ She knew only too well how George saw things, which was why she’d not set eyes on him for so long. It was time to change the topic of conversation, before she let too much hurt rise back up to the surface. Crying in front of this kind stranger, who had more than enough pain of his own to deal with, would be unthinkable. ‘Now, where’s that cat? Let’s see if she wants to finish this last drop of milk, shall we?’ She emptied the contents of the milk jug into a bowl and laid it on the floor, carefully avoiding Tom’s gaze.

‘Well, I’d best be off.’ He took the hint quickly and looked at his watch. ‘I’ve taken up far too much of your time. It’s been good to chat. See you again perhaps, Madalyn, before you head off home?’