It wasn’t until years later that Jodie found out that her mother had lied, that the paperwork didn’t happen that quickly, but back then she’d believed everything she was told and she’d howled her loss.

‘Australia,’ her mother had said when Jodie had begged to know where he’d gone and she’d taken some comfort when she’d visited her local library and sat with every book they had on the continent, poring over photographs, imagining the baby growing up among koala bears and kangaroos.

When she was older, she’d had a longer conversation with her mother. About the baby, and the adoption. And Jodie had learned the harrowing truth.

Her eyes filled at the memory. She looked across to Rivka’s expectant face. ‘No, it wouldn’t be him.’ Jodie saw the receptionist’s curious face and leaned closer. ‘You remember my mother?’ She laughed when Rivka raised her eyebrow. ‘Yes, she wasn’t the kind of woman you forgot, was she? Well, she was even tougher than you know. The adoption was private. All legal and above board and everything, but Mum made certain conditions before the final paperwork was signed.’

‘But she wasn’t the mother, you had to have signed everything,’ Rivka argued.

Jodie shrugged. ‘My mother was a force of nature. You didn’t argue with her. Certainly, I didn’t. I signed where I was told, did what I was told.’ Her voice faded as she drifted into the past.

Rivka reached out and gave her a shake. ‘What did she do?’

Jodie pulled herself back to the present. ‘Sorry. There’s an Adoption Contacts Register, Rivka. The adopted person or the birth parents can choose to be on it so that if either wants to contact the other, it’s possible.’ She took a deep breath. ‘The register also has another option – you can choose to have an absolute veto allowing no contact whatsoever. My mother signed that veto.’

Rivka’s mouth dropped open. ‘But you can have that changed, surely? You must have the right.’

Rights, obligations, promises. ‘Mum said it was for the best. That it would be better for the child to imagine his beginning rather than know the truth.’ Jodie met her friend’s sympathetic eyes. ‘A child of rape, the son of a sexual predator. How could I wish that on my child? I promised her I’d never change the veto. There’s no way the child would be able to find out anything about me.’

‘What about the birth certificate?’