Harry looked at the ground as they walked along and she wondered if he was reliving the scene here the week before, and Jeanie’s acrimonious departure. ‘Well, I’ve already said it a million times,’ he replied. ‘That I’m sorry, and that I love her. And I hope she can forgive me.’ A hangdog expression came over his face. ‘But I’ll say all of those things again when she gets here, if that’s what it takes. And I’ll just have to keep on saying them until she accepts my apology.’

‘How about Frankie, have you heard from her?’ Paula asked, feeling peculiar, as she always did, when she thought of this unknown sibling of hers, the mystery guest at the party. Paula hadn’t even got to look at her, but kept picturing an angry young woman bursting through the doors, out for vengeance. ‘Have you managed to track her down or anything?’

‘Track her down?’ They had stopped in front of a bank of screens detailing flight departures and arrivals, and Harry stared blankly at them. ‘Oh. I hadn’t thought to . . . I mean . . .’

‘You could look for her on Facebook, or just Google her, if you’ve got her surname,’ Paula went on, unsure why she was being quite so helpful when she didn’t even know if she wanted this new half-sister in the first place.

‘Facebook,’ Harry repeated, as if it was some country he’d heard of, but had never visited in person. ‘I guess I could try. If you think it’s a good idea,’ he added uncertainly. Then his face lit up and he pointed at one of the screens. ‘The plane’s landed!’ he cried. ‘She’s back. She’s back!’

He looked so childishly excited and yet so nervous and vulnerable that, for the first time, Paula actually felt a bit sorry for him. Dad was hopeless without Mum, he really was. If it hadn’t been for Dave and Bunny taking him in, he probably wouldn’t have eaten properly all week. Paula had gone round to the house with him that morning and had been dismayed to discover that the post was still in a pile on the mat, the plants were drooping and the butter, left out in its dish since the previous weekend, had turned completely rancid. ‘Dad, you can’t let her come home to this,’ she’d scolded, opening the fridge door and finding it almost empty inside. She’d sent him out to buy groceries while she cleaned and tidied, shaking her head over his cluelessness. No wonder he wanted things to go back to the way they were. Maybe he’d appreciate Jeanie a bit more after this.

‘It’ll be a while yet, Dad, she’ll have to collect her case and go through passport control,’ she pointed out now, but Harry was already hurrying expectantly to the Arrivals doors.