‘Eliza, your mother really was a one-off. Charismatic. My dad was amused by her, I know. She was a great storyteller too. That counted for a lot with him.’

‘Did anything happen between them when she was here?’

‘I don’t think so. She was flirty, but to be honest, she was flirty with everyone. Always full of tales of this or that fling. She was going for some kind of United Nations record, she said. I took it all with a pinch of salt. You had to with Jeannie. Not that she didn’t get plenty of offers. She was gorgeous, so full of life —’ He stopped. ‘I’m sorry, Eliza. That she and I lost contact. I still can’t believe she’s gone.’

It was his turn to ask personal questions. He asked about Eliza’s childhood. Where they had lived. What sort of work Jeannie had done. He asked her again about Jeannie’s death. She told him more than she’d told anyone since the night it happened, even Rose. Every detail was still so vivid in her mind. She told him about her godmothers arriving. The autopsy. The funeral. The aftermath, the coroner’s report, the paperwork, so much of it handled by Olivia and Maxie. Packing up their house.

‘You still went to university? So soon afterwards?’

‘I had to do something. I had to keep going.’

‘You must miss her so much.’

‘Every single day.’

‘And she had really never told you anything about your father?’

Eliza shared some of her mother’s stories, choosing the more outlandish ones. The Hollywood stunt double. The spy. The mood lightened again. She could see he was trying not to smile.

‘I know it isn’t funny,’ he said. ‘But —’

‘She found it very funny, I know that.’

‘Do you think she would have told you the truth when you turned eighteen?’

Eliza nodded. ‘She’d promised. She was always good at keeping promises.’

‘Eliza, I’m sorry to ask this.’ He was fidgeting with a sugar packet. ‘Was her death an accident?’

Such a direct question, but they had gone far beyond diplomacy.

‘Yes, it was. I know she would never have wanted to hurt me. She was a wonderful mother.’

‘I can imagine,’ Emmet said. ‘She was a wonderful friend.’

‘Mum talked a lot about you, Emmet. About what a good friend you were to her.’ She’d brought the school project to show him. She handed it over, apologising for mishearing his name.

He read aloud from it. ‘She got a job in a bar and lived in a big house called a squat and made a good friend who lived there too. The friend’s name was Emma. Emma was funny and kind and Irish.’

He looked up and thanked her for bringing it. She could see a glint of tears in his eyes.