‘Yes. She must have written it before she … My little girl wrote me a beautiful poem and I didn’t even know.’

‘What do you mean, you didn’t know?’

‘Well, she was always writing things and coming to show me but more often than not I’d be so engrossed in my own stuff I didn’t notice. I can’t remember ever reading this poem. Or else I did and then forgot all about it.’

Julia reads the poem again then looks up at me with a strange expression on her face. She’s judging me. I know she is. She’s thinking, what kind of mother forgets something like that?

‘And it was on the floor of the storage unit?’ says Julia, folding the note.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I was just about to leave when I saw it. It was wedged between two boxes.’

‘How strange,’ she says, wiping her eyes with the tip of her manicured finger. ‘That you don’t remember it.’

‘Like I said, Elspeth would always be flitting about when I was working in my study but half the time I was so preoccupied with my work I didn’t pay any attention.’

Julia looks at me and nods.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ I say. ‘You’re thinking I neglected her; that I’m a bad mother.’

‘I’m not thinking that at all, Maggie,’ says Julia. ‘On the contrary, it sounds like you loved her very much.’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘And I should have loved her more. I should have read this poem when she gave it to me and I should have told her it was beautiful and that I loved her with all my heart, but I didn’t and now it’s too late.’

‘At least you had that time together,’ says Julia. ‘It might have been short but some mothers and daughters don’t even have that.’

I remember then that Julia’s mother died when she was a baby and I realize how insensitive I’ve been.

‘A child is the most precious thing in the world,’ she says, wiping her eyes quickly as though embarrassed.

‘Yes,’ I say, quietly.

‘You should keep this safe,’ she says, handing the letter back to me.

‘Do you know what hurts the most,’ I say, placing the letter on my lap. ‘The fact that I couldn’t keep her safe … that I actually put her in danger that night.’

‘I’m sure that wasn’t the case,’ says Julia. ‘It was just a tragic accident. Nobody is suggesting you had anything to do with it, are they?’

I shake my head.

‘I should go now,’ says Julia, standing up. ‘You look exhausted.’

She is right. My eyes are so tired I can barely keep them open.

I walk Julia to the door. The porch is dark so I turn the light on.