‘I don’t know what you expect from me, Stella,’ she says, her voice soft but firm.

‘If anyone knows what happened, you do,’ I persist. ‘You and Mum were so close. She looked to you like her own mother. Especially when Gran died.’

Annie shakes her head, hanging it low.

I take hold of her bony arm, squeezing it gently though I’m scared to press too tight. She feels so fragile between my hands and it saddens me how much the last few days must have taken their toll. ‘Mum trusted you. I know she would have told you whatever was on her mind.’

Annie looks up at me. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Did she find something out?’ I say.

Her lips are parted, her head giving only the glimmer of a shake, and I see something behind her eyes that she’s holding back from me. I wait for her answer. In my work I have become hardened to silences.

Straightening herself, she asks, ‘Whatever are you getting at, Stella?’ Her voice wobbles with uncertainty and I can almost see her held breath. Her question has been asked to detract attention. Annie knows why Mum agreed to leave, I am certain of it.

I have never before spoken to anyone about what I saw before we left. To do so now would mean unleashing everything I’ve buried in one of my boxes.

‘Did she find out Dad was having an affair?’ I say, the words tumbling out.

‘An affair?’ Annie’s rigid body softens as she sinks against the back of her chair. ‘Why would you think that? Oh, Stella. I don’t think for one minute your father would have had an affair.’

Annie seems so amused by the idea, and strangely so relieved, that I find myself smiling back, ignoring the voice inside my head saying, But I saw him.

She pushes away from the table, taking the mugs to the sink and rinsing them. When she wanders over she doesn’t sit down but instead hovers by the table. ‘It’s the past, Stella,’ she says softly. ‘The best place for many things to stay.’

‘It’s my past, though. I have a right to know what made us leave.’

‘You have no right at all if your mum didn’t want you knowing.’

‘So, there is something. I’m begging you, please tell me.’

‘There’s nothing I can tell you,’ Annie says, though I know she means there’s nothing she is prepared to tell me. All these years and she still remains loyal to Mum.

I sit back, deflated. For a moment we are both silent, but I don’t want to lose the track of our conversation and I’m not ready to leave, even though I get the impression she’d like me to.