‘Of course I mean it. You’re my little girl. You’ve missed enough birthday and Christmas presents. Anyway, you need a good guitar. It’s a necessity for you. To play like that at your age … I have to tell you, I’m pretty blown away.’

I look down at the guitar, plucking strings. ‘Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you. Do you know what? How long have we been out here? It must have been hours.’ I shake my head, fretboard-toughened fingers finding chords. ‘I feel guilty.’

‘Because of your mother?’ Michael plinky-plonks a few notes on the piano.

‘Yes.’ I hang up the guitar and shake out my fingers.

‘So on that note, pun intended, I think now is the right time to have our talk.’

I nod. ‘Okay. Just let me give Skywalker some fresh air.’ I go to the studio door and heave it open so Skywalker can scamper outside. Michael comes to stand beside me, and we both watch dogface sniff a tree then pee against its trunk.

‘Once we do this, there’s no turning back,’ says Michael, returning to the piano. ‘Your life is going to change forever. You’ll never see the world the same way.’

My nodding gets slower. ‘Yes.’ I let out a long breath. ‘Yes, I know. And I’m ready. I came here because I wanted things to change. Things can’t stay as they are. And that means knowing the whole truth. About everything. Whatever my mother is hiding, I need to know.’

‘Okay.’ Michael stares at piano keys. ‘But you should be prepared for something. You’re not going to like your mother very much once I tell you. You might not like me much either.’

‘I’m prepared for that.’

‘Well then.’ Michael slides his hands from the piano keys. ‘Here goes. We talked about Lorna’s cancer before, didn’t we?’

‘Yes.’

‘And that she never told you what kind of cancer she had.’

‘Yes.’

Michael laces chubby fingers together. ‘She told me all about her cancer. The operation, the radio-chemotherapy, how it all made her feel. Where the cancer started. It’s a bit weird, don’t you think, that she hasn’t told you, her own daughter, what kind of cancer she had?’

‘Maybe she wants to put it behind her,’ I say, rubbing Skywalker’s ears as he comes to stand beside me. ‘Positive outlook. Don’t mention the C word.’

‘What about her new partner? Has she told him, do you think?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t get why it matters.’

‘Oh, it matters so much, Liberty bell. So much. It changes everything.’

‘Why?’

Michael watches me for a moment. ‘Lorna had uterine cancer.’

‘Is that … the womb?’

‘Exactly. Uterine. Uterus. She had cancer of the womb. They removed her womb, Liberty. The whole thing. Before you were born.’