I said, ‘Alright, thank you for all this, Doug, and I want you to know that you are no longer my lawyer, and I’m instructing you to take no further action on this matter and I will handle it.’ But Doug just looked confused and said, ‘But I was never your lawyer, Snow. I’m Jim’s lawyer.’

I said, ‘But my dad’s dead,’ and he said, ‘I’m the executor of your father’s estate. I work for him, or at the very least I’m working on his behalf. I’m instructed to put you in touch with Agnes Moore, and your dad made sure I put a clause in his will that requires the two of you to meet, so that you can offer her a portion of her father’s estate, up to half its value.’

I said, ‘Who is Agnes Moore?’ And that’s when it dawned on me that I hadn’t even asked what her name was, that’s how much in denial I was. Doug said, ‘That’s your sister’s name. Well, it’s her married name. She was Agnes Joan Bell when she was born – Bell was your mum’s maiden name, wasn’t it? – and now she’s Agnes Moore.’

I said, ‘You do know I’m going to challenge this, don’t you, Doug?’

But he just sighed like that was the most predictable reaction in the world and said, ‘Your father thought you would, and he asked me to tell you not to bother. He had me draft a letter to you that I’d at least like you to read before you walk that path.’

He pushed this letter across the desk, and what can I tell you, it was like reading the last mad ravings of a dying man. I don’t remember every word, mainly because I was feeling such total shock, but it was basically:

Dear Snow,

I realise this will have come as a great shock to you . . . this baby, Agnes, was something we kept a secret from everyone . . . your mum had no choice but to let her be sent away because I was away fighting the war . . . we went back to get her, nobody could tell us where she’d gone . . . we were told to forget the past, and get on with our lives . . . we never forgot her . . . when I got sick, I asked Doug to help me . . . it would mean a great deal to me to know that you two could meet . . .

And so on and so forth, a load of guilt spewed up on the page, most of it too stupid to even talk about.

Doug said, ‘As I understand it, the point for your dad was really for the two of you to meet. He was concerned about you being alone in the world.’

I said, ‘If that was the point, Doug, why didn’t he simply say, “If this woman can be found, it would be great if they could meet?”’