She shook her head. ‘He will hate himself more for walking out on you. Knowing my son, he will blame himself before he blames you.’ She thought about things for a moment. ‘We’re going to have to approach this carefully,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘It’s probably best he doesn’t know I found out first, nor that I came here. When you tell him, you mustn’t mention me. He needs to be the one to tell me he has a daughter. It’ll be important to him.’

I took in a breath. So I was going to tell him, was I? I suppose I had no choice. If I didn’t, his mother would have to. How would I explain myself? My reasons had seemed so plausible all those years ago, to save my daughter from the feeling of rejection I’d felt for so long. But the years had worn away at that excuse and now I saw it for what it was: a coward’s way out.

‘I’m not going to lie,’ I said. ‘And neither should you. I’ll tell him you saw my photo and came here to be sure.’ She opened her mouth to protest but I leant forward, staring into her eyes. ‘No more lies.’

She took in a deep breath then nodded.

‘Fine,’ I said, ‘I’ll call him tonight if you give me his number.’

‘You can’t do it over the phone!’ she protested.

‘And I can’t drag him down here either. I can’t risk him bumping into Lumin before I have a chance to explain it all to him. I owe them both that.’

‘Jesus Christ, Gwyneth, this is not news to deliver over the phone. Come to Scotland with the girl. We will make sure it’s done properly.’

‘The McClusky way?’ I asked. ‘No thanks. I want to do this my way. I know my daughter … and I know Dylan too, despite the little time we spent together. However the news is delivered, it’s going to be difficult. Phone, face to face, letter. But the sooner it’s done, the better. I’ve already left it too long.’ We held each other’s gaze. ‘Do you have his number?’

She wrote down his number and handed it over. ‘He won’t be impressed by me coming here. I just wanted to protect him from any potential hurt.’

I realised then Mairi had just done what I’d been doing all these years: protecting her child from hurt and rejection. But I had been wrong and so had she. No more lies.

‘You need to give him more credit,’ I said. ‘He’ll be fine with it.’

She shook her head. ‘He already thinks I control him too much.’

‘Maybe you do? Maybe this is your chance not to.’