He stared at himself in the mirror, but he didn’t look any older.

He flung himself down on the hard little couch – whoever considered this adequate seating for a grown man deserved to sit on it for a week as a punishment – then he stood up again, pacing round the flat. If Gemma hadn’t been due back soon, he’d have gone for a long walk to clear his head.

Only he doubted whether anything would clear his head of the thoughts roiling round it until he’d come to terms with the news.

What had happened to Hope wasn’t his fault exactly, but he still felt partly responsible.

Then the lift pinged and he heard footsteps coming towards the flat.

His daughter was back – his younger daughter! Thank goodness.

She’d need time to get used to the news as well.

Gemma walked into the flat, dumped the shopping bags in the kitchen and filled the kettle. ‘I’m parched. Want a cup of coffee?’

‘Yes, please. I’ll put the food away, shall I?’

‘We both can.’ She looked at him. ‘Uh-oh! What’s happened now?’

‘Hope rang again.’

‘That’s good, surely?’

‘Her counsellor said to phone as soon as she could, and she decided she wasn’t afraid to call me.’

‘Afraid of you? No woman could ever be.’

He really valued that compliment.

Gemma opened a packet of biscuits and bit off half of one, talking through the mouthful. ‘Go on.’

‘We’ll wait till we’ve got our coffee. And I wouldn’t mind a biscuit too.’

When they were sitting in the so-called living room, which was more like an alcove off the kitchen, containing only the sofa, a small table and two rather hard chairs, he sipped his coffee and put the mug down.

‘Hope told me a little about her daughter. Janey’s about a year older than you and, um, she has a one-year-old daughter.’

Gemma choked on the mouthful of coffee and it was a moment before she caught her breath.

‘She started early, didn’t she?’

‘Not voluntarily, from the sound of it.’

‘She was raped?’

‘Hope didn’t use that word, she said “forced” but what else could it mean?’

Silence, then, ‘Poor thing.’

More silence, followed by a gurgle of laughter, the last thing he’d expected.

‘That means you’re a grandfather, Dad.’

‘And you’re an aunt.’

They looked at one another.

‘My goodness! So I am.’ She giggled. ‘Auntie Gemma. That’s good, though. I like babies.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes. I want a large family one day.’

‘You never said.’

She shrugged. ‘You never asked. When can we meet her, this half-sister of mine?’

‘I don’t know. Hope got that far then started crying. She said she’d phone again.’

‘She does a lot of crying, doesn’t she? Was she always such a watering pot?’

‘No. I think life and a very brutal man have done this to her.’

‘Well, I hope she rings soon. I want to meet my half-sister, see what she’s like.’

He too wished Hope would ring soon. He was eager to meet his other daughter – and his granddaughter. ‘The baby’s called Millie, by the way.’