‘Yes. Jane Miller. Her legal surname was her mother’s.’ I’m betting you already know all this, George. I glance at Zac’s name, which I also wrote on the family tree. A few days ago it would have seemed unthinkable to speak or write it. But the sky has since fallen. Zac has found me. He has found Jane. ‘Jane was married to this man.’ I touch Zac’s name and George looks sharply up at me. His guardedness disintegrates. His eyes do not leave my face. ‘Jane may have had an affair. If so, I haven’t been able to figure out who her lover was.’

‘I see.’

‘Here’s the thing that’s bothering me. The first time I searched for Frederick Veliko was a couple years ago. All I got then was an obituary, and that only came up because I plugged his father’s name in. I tried again last night. Now, the obituary is gone.’

‘Things come and go from the Internet.’

‘Yes.’ I nod in agreement. ‘But there was another weird thing. I tried some birth and death websites, all government records databases in the US. Each time I plugged Frederick Veliko’s name in, I got an error message with this long string of numbers, saying there were too many requests. I tried other names and that didn’t happen.’

He hesitates, as if he is considering something. ‘Leave it with me. No promises, but I’ll see if I can find anything.’

‘Do you think I’m crazy to think it’s as if he never existed? As if someone tried to clean him away but missed the obituary at the first pass. Then they went back and got rid of the crumb they’d overlooked.’

‘I’d never think you were crazy.’

‘Thank you.’ I imitate his mixture of seriousness and teasing.

‘It’s nice to see you, Helen.’ He adds, ‘I mean, nice for me. Obviously not nice for you. I was a bastard, blocking in your car. I’m truly sorry. Maybe we can meet for a drink sometime . . .’

It’s not a marriage proposal. It’s a drink. With a man who is probably spying on me. But if he is, why? ‘Maybe,’ I say. And whose side is he on?

I arrive at the park ten minutes early. From the car, I can see that the children’s play area is still deserted. While I wait for Eliza and Alice, I take out my phone and find the review blog that Milly and I created. I haven’t let myself look at it since last June, when I posted my illicit reply to Abandoned Friend’s comment.

She answered me a month later. The heroine should have trusted more in those she was closest to. It is dangerous not to do that. Love can all too easily turn to hate when you think you’ve been abandoned.