‘Every year, on the seventeenth of May, I’ve walked to that tree. I’ve walked up to the church. Then I’ve walked through the woods, back home. I’ve retraced the steps from that night and I’ve cried at how deep the secret was buried.’

Rhys looks up and Kat wipes a tear from her cheek. James whispers, ‘Oh, Susan.’

‘And every night, from that day to the night before I left the ward, I’ve read our baby a bedtime story, a fairy tale, saying the words into the night and hoping that somehow, some way, he might have heard them.’

‘The book…’ says Rhys, staring at me.

‘The book,’ I nod, knowing without doubt that he knows, but wondering when he’ll share that fact with me. With James.

Chapter Fifty

KAT

She shifts in the chair, wincing at the pain. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask. ‘You don’t have to do this, you know. You should rest. I’m going to call work now and let everyone know. Okay, Susan?’She nods, slowly.

Rhys gets up and walks back over to the dining table. His arms are crossed. ‘Why me?’ he asks, suddenly. I stop and turn, the landline in my hand, poised to call. His mood has shifted: he’s agitated, the muscles in his jaw flex as he waits for Susan’s response. ‘Why did you have my number in your diary? Why did you keep calling me back last year? Why me?’

James stands. ‘Rhys, I think—’

‘It’s okay,’ interrupts Susan.

James shakes his head. ‘Now isn’t the time, Susan. You don’t have to do this right now.’

Susan reaches out a hand to James this time, taking it briefly to reassure him before dropping it and resting her hands on her own lap. ‘Rhys asked the question because he needs to hear me say it.’ James looks to Rhys, and I can see there’s something here that they each know. Something I’m not privy to. I lean against the wall and wait.

Susan takes a breath, turning her head to speak over her shoulder as Rhys stands behind her. ‘What I didn’t realise, the night I walked away, was that from that moment onwards, I’d be looking and wondering, daily. A baby in a pram, I would strain to check. A toddler, I’d watch, just in case, my heart suspended. I’d follow people, years later, who shared familiar eyes, or his jawline perhaps.’ She nods towards James. ‘I’d seek out anything that might hint at the possibility I’d found my child. But I never really knew, before. It always felt like a maybe, a possibility.’

Rhys’s face is blank, frozen in the moment. He doesn’t seem to be registering what she’s saying, and yet she continues as though he does.

‘When I started working at the records office, it wasn’t long until I realised it meant I could find the file. I went, several times, to search papers from the weeks and months around when it happened. When I finally found it, I would stand as dusk fell and colleagues had left the office. I’d look at it in my hands, daring myself to open it up fully, to read it properly. I walked away several times before I finally sat down and processed each word.’