‘If not now, when?’ she said. Frank murmured that this was a fair point and drove down the big hill towards the direction of the sea. The sun had peeked out briefly and the firefly speckles of light moving across its surface were soothing but not quite enough to quell the nervous feeling dancing in her stomach.

Three minutes later they pulled into a street that was a few rows back from the seafront. Neat, terraced houses of the two-up-two-down sort that had been her and Colin’s first home together. For a moment she allowed the memory to sweep in of her climbing those steep stairs, her round belly and extra weight making her huff with the effort. Then … sitting up in bed with her tiny son in her arms, while Colin fussed about, seeming to levitate a few inches off the ground with pride.

Cold desolation twisted in her stomach now and she gripped the handle of her handbag until her knuckles blanched. There would be plenty of time – too much time – to grieve when she got home. She would never come back to this town again but thank goodness for the kindness of this stranger who was willing to help her.

The car slowed and pulled into the nearest parking space, behind a blue people carrier. The house she wanted, number 15, was a few doors up.

‘This is us,’ said Frank, and she felt a little touched at the way he was including himself in this strange sequence of events. ‘I’ll come with you, shall I?’

‘No.’

She hadn’t meant to say it so sharply, and could almost feel him drawing back, a little wounded.

‘Sorry, I don’t even know if this a wild goose chase,’ she said. ‘I just want to ask, that’s all. And then we can go.’

Frank said, ‘It’s up to you,’ but didn’t meet her eyes and she could tell he was offended. She had pushed her luck too far. This needed to be done and then she could get a train back to her own home, somewhere she longed to be now with an intensity that was almost painful.

With a weary sigh, she opened the door and heaved herself out onto the pavement. The sun had been swallowed by cloud again and a chill wind wrapped itself around her. She had forgotten how vicious a sea breeze could be.

She walked warily towards number 15, which had a jaunty red front door and a front garden that looked as though no one ever gave it any attention.

There was no point trying to rehearse what she was going to say; it was all too bizarre. So instead she made herself stride up the path and press the doorbell before she could lose courage and run back to the relative security of Frank’s car.