‘I can’t sit here and do nothing. My brain feels as if it’s been fried. My whole life, the people I trusted most have been lying to me. Do you have any idea what that feels like?’

‘Stop.’

Dee stood up and put her arms around Emer.

‘It’s okay,’ Dee whispered. ‘We’re going to work it out. Together. Okay?’

Emer nodded and Dee squeezed her harder.

‘That’s the spirit, Emer. Come on, let’s tidy up here and we’ll get going.’

‘Going where?’

‘London.’ Dee let her go. ‘Annie was visiting an older man in south London. I think there’s a chance he could be your father. My friend Leonard knows where he lives. I’ve already arranged to meet him there this morning. Why don’t you see if Maeve wants to join us? You can text her the address.’

They drove to Stockwell, a part of the city Emer wasn’t familiar with. At the beginning of the drive, Dee did her best to keep the conversation going. Until Emer asked her to stop. She couldn’t cope with talking. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and give her brain time out. On top of everything else she was trying to process, she now had to deal with the shock of discovering her father might still be alive. That she might actually see him this very day.

They drove to a soundtrack of country music. Artists Emer was already familiar with, like Johnny Cash, Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson. And some new music that she hadn’t heard before. A man whose broken voice was so full of raw emotion, Emer found herself holding her breath as he compared romantic love to a glass of smooth Tennessee whiskey.

‘Chris Stapleton,’ Dee said, as she came off the motorway and started navigating the busy south London streets. ‘I’m hoping to see him live next year when he comes to the UK.’

‘My dad loved all that country stuff,’ Emer said. ‘Mum hates it. I guess Robert must hate it too, because we never listened to anything like that when I was growing up. Come to think of it, after Dad left we never really had music playing in the house. Robert has a great vinyl collection but he never seems to listen to it.’

‘What a shame. We always had music on in our house. My dad loved country. Mum preferred classic, but they seemed to find a good balance of listening to both.’

‘You were lucky,’ Emer said.

‘I know. And if you’re lucky, maybe one day I’ll tell you how I got to be called Dee.’

‘One day?’ Emer looked across and saw Dee was smiling. ‘How about now?’

‘I’ll give you a hint,’ Dee said. ‘Dad was a huge Tom Jones fan.’

‘I’ll need more than that.’