I leant forward and put my head in my hands. ‘Northumberland, a few hours’ drive from you. I’d like to see you first, face to face. Explain. I don’t want to rush into it, she’s so young …’

‘Does she know about me?’ He sounded so matter-of-fact. Why wasn’t he railing at me, screaming in anger? Maybe I’d prefer it if he did?

‘I’m telling her tonight.’

He let out a surprised breath. ‘Jesus. Fine. I’ll come tomorrow, when she’s at school. I can leave now, stay overnight at a hotel, meet you in the morning.’

I blinked. Tomorrow. It seemed so soon. But what right did I have to say no? ‘Okay. I don’t want to rush Lumin into anything.’

‘I’ll stay for as long as I need to. When she’s ready – when you’re ready – we can meet. Where exactly do you live?’

I gave him my address and arranged a time to meet the next day while Lumin was at school. Then I sank back into the chair, my whole body shivering.

Lumin was going to meet her father this week. And I was going to see Dylan for the first time in nearly six years.

I picked Lumin up that evening in trepidation, worried Mairi would be there. I understood why she felt the way she did but I didn’t like the way she was trying to railroad me. Her way or the highway, I remember my mum used to say. But Mairi wasn’t there and I managed to get Lumin home without seeing her.

I tried not to appear distracted over dinner, focusing on Lumin. Luckily, she was tired and quiet, just wanting to watch TV and eat snacks. Usually, I tried to keep both to a minimum during the week. But I gave her some space. If there was any chance she could sense my mood, the last thing she needed was a battle with me over chocolate and Blue Peter.

That night, I read her a chapter from the Chronicles of Narnia. She’d come quickly to chapter books, but still loved looking at the illustrations inside, trying to copy them when she drew.

‘Mummy?’

I paused in my reading. ‘Yes, darling?’

‘Where’s the children’s daddy?’

‘At war, remember? That’s why they need to be evacuated.’

She thought about it a moment then tilted her head. ‘So he’s not dead, like mine?’

‘Your daddy isn’t dead!’

‘That’s what one of the girls said. She said he must be if I haven’t even met him. She said I was an orphan.’

I pulled her close, trying to hide my face. ‘You’re not an orphan! An orphan is someone whose mummy and daddy are gone.’

She looked up at me. ‘I wish my daddy was here.’