‘And you must be Cissie. My mother told me about your visit.’

Cissie had dreamed of this moment for thirty-four long years. In her mind, she had pictured a joyful reunion where mother and son would fall into each other’s arms and profess their love for each other, and yet now it was here she might have been struck dumb, for she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

‘May I come in?’ he asked awkwardly after a time and suddenly Cissie sprang towards him and led him to George’s favourite chair. It wasn’t his fault if he looked like his father, after all.

‘Can I offer you a cup of tea?’

‘A cold drink would be lovely, if it’s no trouble.’

She was pleased to hear that he spoke nicely too, no doubt down to the private education that the Tates had supplied him with. She hurried away to the marble shelf in the pantry and after pouring out two glasses of lemon barley she handed one to him and sat down opposite him with the other.

‘I wasn’t sure that I would ever meet you,’ she said shyly and he smiled, a sad smile.

‘When my mother told me that you had called, I knew I would have to come. I’ve always wondered who my birth mother was, you see.’

‘And did she tell you how we were separated when you were born? That I had no choice?’

He took a sip of his drink and nodded, and now Cissie really studied him. He was very smartly dressed and his hair was neat and tidy. She could have taken him for a toff any day of the week, but this was her son – her son. In a flash she forgot all the negative things the Tates had told her about him. She wanted to judge him for herself; to get to know him.

‘I want you to know that I attach no blame to you for what happened,’ he said. ‘It must have been dreadful for you.’

‘It was,’ Cissie admitted. ‘I think for a while after they took you away from me that I was almost as mad as some of the poor lunatics I was locked away with.’

‘But you married eventually and had more children?’

Cissie smiled now and nodded. ‘Oh yes. I’ve been very fortunate indeed. My husband is a lovely man and we were blessed with three beautiful children. All grown up and flown the nest now, of course. But still never a day went by when I didn’t think about you. You were always part of me.’

He reached out his hand to her and just for a second she almost flinched away, for he was so like his father in looks that she was suddenly remembering the feel of Albert Pinnegar’s fat hands all over her. But none of what had happened was this young man’s fault and he had never asked to be born.

‘I felt much better after meeting your parents,’ Cissie confided to him then. ‘To know that you had been loved and cared for meant the world to me.’