The woman didn’t look amazed. Mostly, she looked pained, and she met Cathy’s gaze for only a handful of seconds before gesturing to the chair across from her at the table. Cathy hesitated. Shouldn’t they hug? Wouldn’t there be a tearful embrace? She reminded herself of what her husband, David, had said; that this might be difficult in ways she couldn’t predict, and that went doubly for her birth mother. She sat down.

‘Here.’ There was an extra glass on the table. The woman picked up the bottle of white wine she’d been working her way through and poured a glass. ‘White okay? I suspect we could both do with a drink.’

‘White’s fine, thanks.’ Cathy took a moment to study Jane Bailey. She was a little older than she’d been expecting, maybe a few years older than her mum had been when she’d passed away. She was well dressed, with an expensive-looking navy-blue turtleneck jumper and white jeans, and she had gold hoops in her ears. Her hair was an unlikely shade of purple-red – something out of a packet. ‘And thank you for meeting me. I understand that it can’t have been easy, but it means a lot to me.’

‘I won’t lie to you, part of me didn’t want to come at all. I thought all that …’ Jane paused, fiddled with a thick gold band on one slightly pudgy finger. ‘Well, I thought it was all behind me. That was sort of the point. How did you find me, anyway?’

‘My mum passed away. Well. I mean …’

‘I know what you mean. And I’m sorry for your loss.’

Cathy nodded briefly, trying to gather herself. The cold tone from the other woman was throwing her.

‘Before she died, she told me I was adopted. It was a bit of a shock, to put it lightly. I never had the slightest inkling.’ She paused and took a gulp of her wine. ‘She also told me it was a private adoption, no official records or anything, which was partly why they never told me. It all seemed mad to me. Still does.’

‘It goes on more than you think.’ Jane Bailey had crossed her legs, and was leaning forward over her knee, although she was looking at some point beyond Cathy. ‘Especially then.’

‘She gave me the name of the woman who had arranged it, and … well, she took a lot of finding, is the short version of the story. When I found her, she did not want to talk to me at all. Like, at all. It was only when I threatened to get the police involved … and I’m not proud of that.’

Jane Bailey sat up, the colour dropping from her face.

‘You did what?’

‘Nothing! Nothing came of that at all, I was just desperate. I wanted to know who you were. And she did tell me. So, I thought …’