Fry gritted her teeth, steeling herself to resist the waves of resentment surging through the foliage. For a few moments on the doorstep, she’d wondered whether they were even going to be allowed into the bungalow. Now, that would have been awkward.

‘Luanne – she’s still alive somewhere, surely?’ said Mrs Lowther. ‘The fact that you haven’t found her yet . . . I mean, we will see her again, won’t we?’

‘I’m sorry, we can’t say, Mrs Lowther. We’re still looking.’

After that, the Lowthers just looked at her expectantly, offering nothing, asking no questions. And why should they? It wasn’t their job to make it easier for her.

‘I want to go back to what you told me about the adoption,’ said Fry eventually. ‘I understand the procedure for international adoptions can be rather complicated in Bulgaria.’

Henry Lowther grunted angrily. ‘Complicated? You don’t know the half of it. The whole business is like some nightmare from a Kafka novel.’

‘A lot of hurdles in the way.’

‘Absolutely. Right from the beginning, it was made as difficult as possible.’

She detected instant relief from the Lowthers at the direction of her questions. More obvious from Moira than her husband, perhaps. But Henry was prepared to talk now. Eager, in fact.

‘Prospective parents have to obtain the consent of the Bulgarian Justice Minister in advance, before they can even think of starting court proceedings,’ he said. ‘And the application has to refer to a particular child, so you’ve got to find the child before you do anything else.’

‘Hence the orphanage being the first port of call.’

‘Exactly. Then we had to go to the ministry and demonstrate adoption would be in the child’s best interests. Lindsay and Brian had to provide information about themselves: age, health, criminal records, that sort of thing. You need declarations of consent from the child’s natural parents – or the chief physician of the orphanage, in our case. It was only when the minister gave his say-so that we could apply to the regional court in Sofia.’

‘A lot of documents required, were there, sir?’

‘Documents? A whole bloody library of documents. I could reel them off for you now, they’re so imprinted on my brain. I used to go through the list every night before I went to sleep, I was so afraid we’d missed some detail that would bring the whole thing crashing down. Lindsay and Brian had to testify in writing to their motivations. They had to produce their birth certificates and marriage certificate. They had to give evidence about their home, their employment, their income, proof of their financial assets.’

Mrs Lowther was nodding in agreement. ‘And their religion, their ability to raise children . . . They had to provide references, as if they were applying for a job.’