Fergus said once, ‘You judge your mother so harshly, Nik, it takes my breath away. Fleur loves you unconditionally whatever you do, whatever you say to hurt her, as I do. How sad you are unable to suspend judgement for even a second, to understand the person she is.’

My feelings towards Fleur have always yoyoed frantically. Yet the relief in finding her safe and alive had been overpowering. In those dreadful moments in the pathology lab I didn’t want anyone but her, not even Jack. And now? Now I had no idea how I felt about anything except this aching sorrow under my ribs and an anxiousness that would not go away.

Fleur knew exactly how her daughter was feeling. If Nikki had ever shown open love or need for her, or sudden understanding, it was certain to be followed by puzzled regret. It was inevitable that Nikki should automatically revert to a position taken long ago in childhood. A perceived injury as familiar as a playground chant, repeated often to make it true.

Even if Nikki, as a mature adult, could now recognise that the flaws she saw in Fleur were part of being a human being and making mistakes, to let it all go and move on meant she had to question the persistent and uncertain stand she had taken; the childhood she had shaped; the life she had determined for herself.

Fleur longed for the easy intelligence of Fergus, who had understood them both better than anyone. Who had been able with quiet insight to lay in front of her the substance, the reality of his and Fleur’s love that had survived so much.

‘You have to take responsibility for your own life and your own mistakes,’ he had said. ‘It was to betray yourself, twist your own motives, ruin your life and the lives of those nearest to you if you believed you were responsible for the actions and emotions of other human beings.’

He had clinically laid before Fleur the facts of their life together; why it had happened, that attraction between them. For Fleur to have a future, to have a life with him, a life that must always hold regret and sadness, she had first to put away that terrible burden of guilt; for herself as well as Nikki.

They had managed, despite their difficulties with Nikki, to have a happy and close marriage. Except that there had been no children with Fergus, and oh how she had longed for more children. Nikki, the only child, had become Fergus’s child, and in the end his unfailing patience had been rewarded with her love.

Fleur, walking alone on the beach as the day cooled and the colours changed, preparing for the dusk that would come quickly, felt surrounded by shadows from the past. David, whose face she struggled now to remember. Fergus, always present. Ah Heng. The twins; as they were, running towards the misty ocean in tiny shorts and nothing else. And her parents, the background for this life she had led here.