I needed my mother to face the challenge that Louis had set me for the next day. I’d turned the page in the Book of Wonders. It was the penultimate entry. After this, there’d be just one left, and then that would be the end. I wiped away the tears welling up in the corners of my eyes.

There was just one line. I’d dreaded that line. I’d wondered at what point it would appear, but I knew it would be there. Painfully logical.

– Find out who my father is. And see him, just once.

I’d had a relationship for nearly two years with Louis’s father. It was a typical story, I realize with hindsight. At the time, I’d felt as if I was living in a fairy tale, a waking dream. That had made the fall hurt all the more.

I met Matthew in May, fifteen years ago. I was sitting at a pavement café on Place de la République. It was a very hot day, and Parisian women had finally ditched their woollen sweaters for the irresistible combo of sunglasses and strappy tops, while the tourists displayed their sweaty armpits. Matthew was sitting at the next table, with the Lonely Planet guide to Paris in one hand, and a beer in the other. No perspiration rings – that was a point in his favour. I noticed him at once. Matthew exuded sexiness: tall, greying at the temples, athletic looking. He reminded me a little of George Clooney in Ocean’s Eleven. Branded shades, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up – very important, long sleeves on a shirt; for me, that shows good taste. Slow gestures, even when he picked up his beer, delicate fingers – not the sort to get his hands dirty. An intellectual. Forty-something. I had just turned twenty-four. He could have been my father. That was probably one of the main things that attracted me, because I’d never had a father. I only admit this subconscious Oedipal pull with hindsight. At the time, I don’t think I was aware of it.

I was reading an excruciatingly boring management book, and my gaze was naturally drawn to the neighbouring table. After a few moments, I could feel his eyes on me. He smiled and I noticed the dimple that appeared on his right cheek. Louis has one in the same place – totally adorable. He asked me if I could help him; he was on his own in Paris and was looking for a good restaurant for that evening. He lived in London, was on a work trip. Two whole weeks. So, rather than going backwards and forwards, he’d chosen to spend the weekend in France. He didn’t regret staying. I laughed, and he added, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, that he was talking about the lovely weather compared to rainy London, of course. Of course.