And now these grandparents wanted her. Chloe had never spoken about her mother or father. But then she had never spoken of any relatives. She had given away almost nothing about herself. The only time I had ever asked her was just after Lucian had left her, when I thought that perhaps her mother could help.

It bewilders me now, to think how incurious I had been. Though something about Chloe made questions or confidences impossible. I had tried to be kind to her, to mother her, but she was not interested in my friendship. She was remote and evasive, polite but distant. I barely even knew how to begin to be her friend. Her birthday was in the wintertime and one year I bought her a pale blue coat from Selfridges. I picked it off the rack impulsively because I wanted her to have something beautiful, and because I thought the blue would be lovely with her eyes, but as soon as Chloe unwrapped it I knew that it was the wrong thing entirely. It was not her style and as she fingered the label I felt ashamed at having spent so much money. She thanked me and said it was very nice, wrapped it back up carefully and placed it in the tray under Flora’s pram. I never saw her wear it. ‘She probably sold it the next day,’ Sylvia said when I told her about it. She had met Chloe once when she came to collect Flora, and she thought Chloe took advantage of me. That she used the child to manipulate me.