Fran eyes the notification suspiciously. Logically, she knows it’s probably spam, telling her to buy more testing kits for her family, as if that hasn’t caused enough problems already. Emotionally, something inside her stirs. She clicks on the notification and watches the screen as a new browser window pops up and an email message opens.

Dear Frances Fitzgerald

You don’t know me but I think we might be related. Having recently completed a DNA ancestry test the site is telling me that I have four half siblings on this site. Needless to say, this came as something of a surprise as I’ve spent my whole life thinking I’m an only child. Could you tell me a little about yourself? I’m thirty-nine, married with two children. I live in Leeds and am an accounts officer. My parents are Sally and Dennis Broadfoot.

I hope this email hasn’t come as too much of a shock and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

With best wishes

Gary Broadfoot

P.S. My dad was in the army. We were stationed in Germany and Cyprus for a lot of his career. I’m not sure if that helps.

She reads the message again. Old Fran would probably delete the email and sweep what she just read under the carpet; it is a family trait after all. But new Fran does things that make her feel uncomfortable, like talking back to her mother, saying I love you, and allowing people to hug her.

Dear Gary Broadfoot, she types. How are you?

Chapter 56

Now – two months later

KATE

Kate shifts in her hard, plastic seat, runs her hands through her newly blonde, bobbed hair and looks idly around the cavernous church hall she’s found herself in. She had hoped to be the first to arrive but there were three people already seated in the circle – a frail pensioner with her handbag clutched to her chest and her feet neatly crossed at the ankle, a scruffy middle-aged man in a faded blue and white stripy jumper, and a man in his early thirties in a white shirt, suit jacket and pin-striped trousers. She smiled expectantly at the man in the suit, but he wasn’t the one who got to his feet, ambled over to her and held out his hand – it was the scruffy one in the jumper. Her spirits plummeted as he held out his hand.

‘A new face! Welcome, welcome.’ He pumped her hand up and down. ‘You’ve done a brave thing today. I know how difficult it is, just walking through those doors. I’m George, by the way. It’s my group. Well, I say that. It’s everyone’s group. It wouldn’t be much of a group if I were the only one here!’

‘Kate.’ She extricated her hand from his grip.