She stopped talking abruptly and flushed, and Mrs Tate smiled at her. ‘We have never kept the fact that he was adopted from our son,’ she told Cissie. ‘And in answer to your questions, yes, he is safe and well – as far as we know. No, he isn’t married and no, he doesn’t have any children – not to our knowledge anyway.’

Her husband took up the tale. ‘What my wife is trying to tell you is that Hugh, our son, isn’t here at present. He’s somewhat of a wanderer, you see,’ he said, his face grave. ‘Some weeks ago we had words – rather harsh ones, unfortunately – and I told him that it was time he stood on his own two feet.’ The man paused and appeared to be choosing his words carefully. ‘The thing is, Emma and I took him when we found that we could never have children of our own, and for a long time he fulfilled a need in us and we doted on him. Looking back, that was probably where we went wrong. Anything within reason he asked for he had, but he was such a delightful little boy that it was hard to deny him. But then when he became older we noticed a change in him. He became somewhat of a bully, I’m afraid, and got in with the wrong crowd. We sent him away to a boarding school but eventually he was expelled from there so we got him an apprenticeship with a local plumber, so that he would have a trade. That didn’t last long either. Hugh wasn’t one for getting his hands dirty.’

Mr Tate took a breath before he resumed. ‘Then he started to gamble and would regularly disappear for weeks at a time, only coming home when he wanted money. This went on for several years until finally when Emma became ill I decided enough was enough. He is a grown man, after all, and needs to take responsibility for himself now. And so the last time he came home looking for cash to pay his debts, I refused him and we had a bitter row. And that is the last we saw of him, although I have no doubt he will return to try his luck again when he thinks we have had time to calm down.’

Cissie was shocked. This was not the picture she had painted of her long-lost son at all and yet she had no reason to doubt the couple. They seemed perfectly genuine people.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said in a wobbly voice. ‘I feel somehow that I am the one responsible for what you’ve been through.’

‘Nonsense, my dear. If Hugh is indeed your birth son, no blame can be attached to you whatsoever. The child was taken from you and it was our choice to adopt him and to bring him up in the way we did. The question now is, what do you want to do? Do you want us to tell Hugh that you’ve been here enquiring about him, if and when he returns? I know he’s always wondered who his natural mother was.’