I looked over at Wolfie and could see she was trying not to laugh.

‘What?’

‘Nothing, just . . .’ She shrugged and glanced down into her mug, still smiling. ‘You know, for Pete’s sake.’

I chuckled along with her, but I’d just realised it was the first time I’d attempted to articulate to anyone, including myself, how seriously I’d started to take those letters. Because, along with the slight nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I sat down to the task, there was also something else now. A feeling of pride, of awe, and almost of disbelief that there were people out there who’d even think of asking someone else for help to make them better. Asking me. Like I might actually have some wisdom to offer, or that anything I have to say could have the power to . . . I don’t know, change their life somehow.

I watched my niece folding the corner of one of the letters over and back, over and back, and wondered if she was thinking the same.

‘It’s a big responsibility being the guy with the answers, Wolfie. You know what I mean? Almost as hard as asking the questions, I’d say.’

I couldn’t read her expression, but clearly she could read mine.

‘Yeah? What questions have you got, then?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Of course I did. ‘Maybe stuff about Lou and you, and . . .’ I paused, but she didn’t butt in so I had to keep going. ‘I . . . I guess, just how things have been. What you’ve been doing for the past few years. All the years, really.’

And there it was, the rusty truth sign that hung between us, squeaking in the breeze while the tumbleweeds rolled. My niece and I had literally no memories to bind us. No shared experiences to recall, no family Christmases to recollect, no mutual acquaintances to remember. The place we had to start from was scratch. Our only common ground was Lou.

‘Not much to know, really.’ She shrugged again and I wondered if the prospect didn’t actually faze her. ‘We’ve just been living our lives. As you do. I take it you never met my dad?’ She waited for me to shake my head. ‘He’s a pretty cool guy, he really is, but he’s not exactly . . .’ She spread her hands wide and looked up to the roof of the shed. ‘Well, let’s just say he hasn’t been around much. So, Lou and I are it. Just us. We’re each other’s family and that’s the way it is. It’s great. She’s great.’ She gave me the side-eye. ‘But you’d know that.’

I couldn’t tell if she was having a dig or just hadn’t finished the sentence. You’d know that – if you’d been around for the past sixteen years.

Lou had mentioned Wolfie’s father, but she hadn’t seemed to want to talk about him much, so I hadn’t pushed. All I knew was that they’d split up when Wolfie was very young and now he lived in Japan. It seemed enough to go on with, but it did make me wonder about all the other stuff I didn’t know, and how much could happen in sixteen years. And also, in my case, how little.