Vivienne leaned back in her chair and sighed. ‘Yes, Madame Burova, it was me. And spare me any sanctimonious outrage. I was young and spoilt and made some very bad decisions’ – she looked directly at Imelda – ‘which I regret. But I can’t change the past.’ She sounded recalcitrant rather than remorseful.

‘But why did you abandon her? Why have her at all if you didn’t want her?’

‘You mean why didn’t I have an abortion? Honestly, I’m not sure. I made an appointment – even got as far as the clinic, but I couldn’t do it. Perhaps I’m not made out of stone after all,’ she added sardonically.

‘Then why didn’t you have her adopted?’

‘Because I didn’t want to leave a trail. I wanted to go back to my old life and pretend that she had never existed – a clean slate. I couldn’t have my entire future jeopardised by one stupid mistake. I booked into the maternity home under a false name. It was expensive, and money can smooth out any number of creases and silence awkward questions. When I checked out, I simply told them that I was going home.’

‘So why did you leave her outside my booth?’

Vivienne shrugged. ‘It was an impulse. I knew she’d be quickly found there. And Cillian thought very highly of you,’ she added pointedly.

Imelda had been wondering how long Vivienne would be able to resist mentioning his name.

‘Who was the father?’

‘I’m sure you have your suspicions, but he never knew.’

Imelda was tired. She wanted to go home. ‘Is that why you brought me here, to taunt me? It certainly wasn’t to entertain your lady guests, was it?’

‘You’re right. Although it seems you were quite a hit with them. No, I invited you here because I want to ask you a favour.’

Imelda could hardly believe what she was hearing, but she was curious to learn whatever it was that Vivienne had the audacity to ask.

‘This year will be the girl’s twenty-first birthday. I have no wish ever to meet her or have any part in her life, but I do feel some sense of responsibility and I have some things that I would like you to pass on to her,’ Vivienne said, handing Imelda two envelopes. ‘Perhaps not now, but at some point in the future. I’ll leave it to your discretion as to when you think she might benefit from them most.’

‘What are they?’ asked Imelda, turning the envelopes over in her hands.

‘One is a contribution towards her financial security and the other is a photograph of her father.’

Now Imelda understood. The photograph was the bait to ensure that she was hooked.

‘Why not get a solicitor to handle it for you? I thought you said that money could smooth out any creases and silence any questions?’