Madame Burova admired her honesty. ‘I don’t blame you for being suspicious. I imagine it’s been rather a lot for you to take in since your father died. But I’m truly glad you did. I’m afraid I have some more revelations for you.’

They lapsed into silence as Billie’s tea and cake were served. Madame Burova had rehearsed this moment so many times in her head, but now that it had arrived, she hardly knew how to begin.

‘How much do you know about what happened before you were adopted?’

Billie poked at her cake with a fork but appeared to have lost her appetite.

‘Virtually nothing. I know I was abandoned – presumably by my birth mother – but I have no idea what her circumstances were. I don’t know if she couldn’t keep me or simply didn’t want to.’

Madame Burova winced at the understandable hurt that whetted Billie’s words. She wanted to provide some comfort, but she had to be cautious about how much she revealed.

‘She left you here deliberately, on the promenade. She chose a place where she thought you’d be safe. A place where she knew someone would find you.’

‘How do you know that? And how the hell do you know my dad?’ There was no malice in her tone. A touch of anger perhaps, but mainly bewilderment.

Madame Burova sighed. She caught the eye of the waiter and ordered a pot of Earl Grey. It was going to be a long and tricky conversation.

‘I’m sorry Billie, but please understand there’s only so much that I can tell you. It’s complicated and I want to help you, but in certain aspects my hands are tied. Let me start with what I hope will be some good news for you. Your mother has left you a generous trust fund, which is now yours to do with as you please. I have all the paperwork here.’ Madame Burova pointed to a substantial six-figure sum on the bank statement she was holding, and then waited for the news to sink in. Billie appeared to be considering what her reaction ought to be. She drummed her fingers along the brim of her hat, took it off, placed it on her lap and then put it back on.

‘I suppose I ought to be pleased. No, I am pleased. Of course, I’m pleased. Who wouldn’t be?’

Madame Burova sipped her tea and waited patiently for the ‘but’.

‘But it feels like a consolation prize. Or maybe even hush money. Is it because she feels guilty for dumping me or is she paying me off so that I don’t look for her?’

‘Perhaps this is all she can give you. Perhaps this is the only way that she is able to show you that she cares about you.’

‘Is she still alive?’

‘I have no reason to believe otherwise.’