‘I haven’t seen Peter,’ he began. ‘It turned out to be a wild goose chase. He covers his tracks well. I have to face it, April, he probably doesn’t want to meet me and is making sure he doesn’t. So, there it is, at least for now. I’m taking “don’t want to know” for an answer.’

‘Really?’ April couldn’t have concealed her relief even if she wanted to.

‘What else can I do?’

There were a few things, of course, which he wasn’t about to mention, such as pump Miranda for more information or track down Vinod Hardekar. But then he wasn’t about to mention Hardekar at all. Nor the fact that April’s old friend, Marty Caldwell, had died a gruesome death in Iceland. There was a lot he wasn’t about to tell her. But his conscience was clear. April and Caro had kept the truth about his paternity from him all his life. He was entitled to do some keeping back of the truth now himself. And, really, what good would it do to tell her Marty was dead, anyway? He supposed she’d hear about it eventually. And, whatever she heard, whenever she heard it, it would be better for her to have no reason to think he knew anything about it.

‘No point pretending I’m not pleased, Nicky,’ she said, embracing him. ‘I reckon it’s better for you this way.’

‘I know you do.’

And maybe, he thought, it truly was.

The deck of a freighter ploughing through the North Atlantic proved to be a hostile place to spend time, although Wada braved it as often as she could, since her seasickness tended to abate in the open air. Espersen had kept her phone, but not her copy of The Makioka Sisters. Unfortunately, reading only made her feel sicker, so there was little to distract her from the boredom and discomfort of the voyage. The crew kept their distance and all she got from Captain Jakobsen was a curt nod whenever they came within sight of each other.

The seasickness lifted during the ship’s stopover in the Faroe Islands, but Wada saw nothing of their surroundings beyond a restricted view of Tórshavn harbour through the porthole of her cabin. Soon enough, the Horisont was back out on the grey, heaving ocean.

As the days at sea slowly passed, Rotterdam became an ever more alluring destination. No matter that it was probably just a featureless port city – Yokohama transplanted to the Netherlands – all she wanted was to arrive there. And then …