I broke off, feeling the familiar pangs of guilt. Was she really happy or had that just been me, newly married and projecting my own thoughts?

‘But after Dad died, everything seemed to unravel. Josie stopped taking her medication and started drinking again. She asked to borrow money. I was always helping her with her rent and David and I used to argue about it. He said she was old enough to look after herself, that she had to sort herself out, that we couldn’t keep bailing her out . . . Thing is, I’d never admit it, but I knew he was right. I was just enabling her.’

I’d gone over this in my mind so many times, replaying the chain of events.

‘So the last time Josie asked for a loan, I said no. I offered to fly out there instead, to go and see her doctors, help her get the right treatment, but she said she didn’t want my pity. We got into a big row and she slammed the phone down. I think she was drunk or high, or both. A week later I got word from her landlord that she’d moved out of her apartment without paying the rent. No one knew where. She wouldn’t answer emails, texts . . . After a while her phone was disconnected . . .’

I had a sudden memory of the panic.

‘I tried contacting her friends, her ex-boyfriend, but no one’s heard from her. I even filed a missing persons report, but the police aren’t interested; she’s a grown woman, and as far as they’re concerned, she can take care of herself.’

I shook my head, feeling the tears prickling my eyelashes.

‘The thing is, I don’t think she can. You know, I still write to her, even though she never replies. I send emails about what I’m doing and where I am. It makes me feel close to her; it makes me feel like I haven’t given up—’ I broke off, realizing how stupid I must sound.

Valentine hadn’t said anything the whole time I’d been talking. He just listened. But now he reached his bandaged hand across the table and placed it on mine.

‘Sometimes it’s easier to be lost than it is to be found.’

I raised my eyes to see he was looking at me, with that steady, solid gaze of his.

‘That’s how I felt when you waved at me that day in the window. After Gisele went into care, I didn’t want to see anyone or do anything. I wanted to disappear. But then you came along with Harry and you pushed your way in, with your persistence and bloody cheerfulness.’

He smiled then, which made me smile, and raised his eyebrows.

‘Have you ever wanted to disappear?’

‘Yes,’ I nodded, remembering how I felt after my marriage broke down and I left London. ‘Yes, I have.’

‘Well then, don’t worry. She’ll be in touch when she’s ready. It’s like that bird feeder I made you.’