‘Join the club. That’s exactly how I feel. It’ll be like a jigsaw puzzle putting the whole new picture together piece by piece, won’t it?’

By the time they got home they were tired and went to bed early with the books they’d bought in Oxford.

They’d agreed to spend the next day quietly, perhaps with a drive out into the countryside and lunch at one of the beautiful rural pubs.

Who knew what the next evening would bring?

At precisely seven-thirty the following evening the phone rang. Adam took a deep breath and picked it up. There was silence at the other end but he was sure he could hear someone breathing, so he said quietly, ‘Adam Torrington here. Is that you, Dorothy?’

‘Yes. Only I’ve changed my name to Hope.’

‘Nice name.’

Silence fell again. He couldn’t think what to say. How awkward this was! ‘Er, how are you?’ Very original, that!

‘I’m getting better all the time.’

‘Have you been ill?’

‘Sort of. I had to take shelter in a women’s refuge. Lionel was … violent.’

‘No! Is that why he’s in prison?’

‘Partly. The main reason is he was growing and dealing in marijuana with his stupid cousin.’

‘Then he deserves to be behind bars.’

‘You don’t sound to have changed, Adam. You always seemed so vigorous and enthusiastic about life. Tell me about yourself.’

So he told her about meeting Judith, offering the information as frankly as she’d spoken to him about the sort of problem abused women usually hid. Then he spoke about Judith’s recent death and his daughter Gemma. Strange that he still found it easy to talk to Dorothy. No, she was Hope now, he reminded himself.

‘You have a daughter, Adam? That’s nice.’

‘Yes. And so do you, I gather.’ He stopped speaking, giving her the chance to tell him about that.

‘You know about my Janey, don’t you? That she’s yours, I mean.’

‘I’d guessed. I didn’t receive your letter all those years ago, or I’d have come back to England to help you. Judith intercepted it. Gemma and I found it among her things when we were clearing out her room.’

‘Linda told me you’d said that.’ She began sobbing suddenly.

‘What have I said? I didn’t mean to hurt you. Doro—Hope, I mean. What is it?’

‘You’ve no idea how much it means to know you didn’t deliberately abandon me back then because I was pregnant. Sorry. I still cry rather easily. Tell me about your daughter. Linda says she looks very like Janey.’

‘She told us that, too. Hope, can we meet? It’s not the same talking on the phone.’

‘I’ll have to think about it.’

‘Can I have your phone number, then? I could ring you next time.’

‘I’d rather not give it you. Not till I’ve seen my counsellor and worked through my feelings. I can’t – I just can’t do any more tonight, Adam. I will ring you again, though. If you need to get a message to me, call Linda.’ She gave him her former neighbour’s number, unnecessarily as he’d already taken note of it when Linda rang him, but he didn’t say that.