Mrs Roberts takes her hand away from her mouth and mumbles something, but it is incomprehensible through her tears. Her silent crying has by now progressed to sobbing, and I’m feeling really awkward. I don’t know where to look so I stare at my hands.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Roberts, we didn’t quite catch that,’ Ellie says in the kind of patronizing tone which I imagine a teacher might use to speak to a mumbling four-year-old. ‘Could you repeat what you said?’

She continues sobbing and we all sit in silence for a few seconds. I’m starting to wonder if this was a really bad idea. If I should have refused to meet them. What would have happened then? It is hot and stuffy in the room and I feel sweat prickling on my back underneath my hideous sweatshirt, retrieved especially from the lost property department of the hospital so that I’d have something to wear other than a hospital nightgown.

‘I … I … I … I wanted to ask … do you … remember me?’ Mrs Roberts manages to force out between sobs.

I look up and she is staring at me, and then she reaches over and touches my leg before crumpling against her son, barely able to breathe for crying.

‘I don’t … I mean I can’t …’ I stutter. I tug at the neckline of the sweatshirt and take a deep breath. Why is it so hot in here today?

‘As I explained, Laura – as we have been calling her for now – doesn’t remember much at all,’ Ellie says soothingly. ‘The doctors think she may have suffered a mild concussion, most likely as a result of being hit by a car, but they’re confident that her memory will come back over time.’

‘I’ve already remembered a few things,’ I blurt. ‘My name. My house. My dad.’

I look down at the floor, realizing that that was probably the wrong thing to say. Mrs Roberts’ sobs escalate and she mumbles something which sounds like it might have been ‘That man, why …’ but it’s difficult to tell.

‘She’s mine!’ Mrs Roberts suddenly shouts, pulling herself up straight. ‘How dare that man take you away from me all those years! Anna! You’re back …’

She gets up and lunges towards me, wrapping her arms around my neck and sobbing into my shoulder. I can feel her spit, snot and tears running onto my skin and shift uncomfortably.

I feel nothing except embarrassment and revulsion. I don’t know who this woman is and she’s scaring me.