My other offers were going to a tacky bar selling rip-off drinks with friends I rarely saw any more, or yet another games night at Charis House. I’d been planning on declining both of them, choosing a post-Christmas restorative glass of wine and a good book in my flat instead.

‘Let me show you that I’m serious. One night, and after that the ball’s in your court.’

It would be a first step to see if Adam had really changed.

‘Okay. If Nana Joy is still doing well, I’ll come out with you on New Year’s Eve.’

‘Awesome. It’s a date.’ He didn’t stop grinning until he’d dropped me off at the Coach House door.

It was nearly one by the time I’d fussed the dogs and grabbed some leftover buffet snacks for lunch. Wasting no more time, I opened Nana Joy’s box and dug in. It only took a few minutes to ascertain that this was all memorabilia from far later on in her career, through the seventies and eighties. I had a final quick rummage and decided to go back to the pile we’d compiled the day before. In my brief dabbles in creating news features I’d learnt to spot a possible lead, and there were two here that seemed most promising. One was Nana Joy’s assistant, who from what we could gather had been employed for over ten years before she got married and moved away. There was also an interview by a journalist who seemed to have spent a fair amount of time shadowing her, and the level of access he must have had to her life suggested that he might have known more than he’d put into print.

The PA was much younger than Nana Joy, but that still put her in her late seventies, so I wasn’t overly optimistic. An order of service from her wedding provided a married name and the location of the church as a starting point. An unusual name meant that it didn’t take long to find Zelia Strong via her vibrant Instagram account.

I sent her a message and started hunting down the journalist, Tony O’Dowd, while I waited for a reply. I’d hit my dozenth dead end when my phone started buzzing with a video call – Zelia. I answered so quickly I nearly broke my nail.

After brief introductions – I’d told her in my message that the family were trying to piece together some of Joy’s earlier life, for posterity’s sake, and she dropped all suspicions that I might not be genuine once she’d seen the family resemblance – I decided to get straight to the point.

‘I’m going to be honest with you – Nana Joy has been very ill and it’s prompted us to start looking into my father’s family.’