I nodded. ‘I agree. Although might is an important word, here. They might have had a terrible fight that means they’ve been trying to pretend she doesn’t exist, too. Your mum talks about the odd good thing, but there might have been lots of bad things that happened growing up as well, and that’s why she never wants to talk about them.’

Joan nodded. ‘I know that. I know how horrible people can be, Ollie. I’m not getting my hopes up that this is going to be like some film where there’s a big, happy reunion and everything is perfect. I probably won’t even find them, and if I do I might wish I hadn’t. But it has to be worth a try.’

‘I agree. We could maybe speak to the social worker about it?’

Joan shuddered. ‘No, thank you. She talks to me like I’m only ten or something. I’m going to find them myself. Although you can help if you want to.’

I did want to. Joan’s calm, wise answers were one thing in theory – I knew how complicated family ties could be in practice, and there was no way I was letting her go down this road without me.

‘Are you going to tell your mum?’

She pulled her head back and squinted at me as though I’d asked if she was going to start the grandparent search on the moon. ‘Er, didn’t you hear the doctor say that Mum needed to stay calm and not worry?’

‘Fair enough. After dinner, we can pack up those things she asked us to bring to the hospital, and I need to figure out the logistics for tomorrow. Before we go and see Mum I have two ReadUp coaching sessions in the library; if you don’t mind coming along, you can make the most of my library card.’

‘Excellent! A perfect opportunity to start my research!’

I waited until Joan was snuggled up in bed before allowing the thought that had been simmering in the back of my brain to boil over. Ebenezer had summed it up in his note: Being without one’s mother can be difficult.

Leanne had gone years without speaking to her parents. Was that a deliberate decision from the outset – had she walked away, intending it to be the last time? Or had she hoped to make them stew for a bit before the inevitable reconciliation, only things happened and time slipped past and then one day the distance had grown too vast to find her way back?

How would I feel if Karina or Aunty Linda called to tell me that Mum was ill, in hospital, and she might never recover?

Would I regret every week, every day I’d missed the chance to speak to her, to let her in on my new life?