Afterwards, Olivia and Maxie had asked Eliza if she wanted to keep her mother’s ashes. That had felt impossible. Her mother, in that urn? It was Olivia who came up with a solution. Maxie made the phone calls, spoke to the stonemason, got contact details for Mr and Mrs Quaker’s distant niece. She gave her permission. Jeannie’s ashes were put inside a brass urn and secured to the side of Mr and Mrs Quaker’s headstone. Her name and dates were engraved on a plaque, with two extra lines underneath. Beloved and loving mother of Eliza. Beloved and loving friend of Maxie and Olivia. It felt right to them all. Jeannie sheltered by the Quakers, even all these years later.

Eliza had the cemetery to herself. She sat on the edge of the grave, close to her mother’s urn. She touched it often as she spoke to her. She told her everything that had happened during her trip. About the flight. Maxie’s wedding. Olivia, Celine and the Montgomerys. Sullivan. Lawrence.

She told her everything that had happened in Ireland.

‘I didn’t meet Hugh, Mum. I was three years too late. But I found out all about him. And I met Emmet. I liked him so much. My half-brother Emmet.’

She spoke about it all, about Sheila and her other sons too. How she had felt learning the truth at last. She told Jeannie everything, as if her mother were sitting across a table from her, eyes alight, asking for more stories, delighting in her, as she’d done so often in the seventeen years they’d had together.

Chapter Forty-one

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Maxie and Olivia were at a café in Edinburgh Airport. Maxie’s flight to New York was leaving soon.

They were talking, as they so often were, about Eliza. Remembering her heartfelt farewell words to them four days earlier: ‘I feel like I know everything about Mum now. It helps so much. Thank you for finally telling me the truth.’

They’d both hugged her tightly. They told her they were so glad everything was now out in the open. So glad there were no more secrets between them. They’d stood at the departures gate, waving until she and Sullivan were out of sight. It was only then that they’d allowed themselves to cry.

They were trying not to cry again now.

‘It still hurts so much,’ Maxie said. ‘I hate lying to her.’

‘I know you do,’ Olivia said, reaching for her friend’s hand across the table. ‘So do I, Maxie. But we told her everything we could. As much as we could.’

There was silence between them for a few moments.

‘Liv, I’m going to talk to that therapist again. Next time I’m in London.’

‘The one who asked you to write everything down?’

Maxie nodded. ‘It helped me back then. For a while. I’m hoping it might help again.’