‘A man spoke to me,’ she said, at last. ‘I think he was security services.’

I turned, me eyes like teacups. ‘A spy? Like from the films?’

‘I don’t know. But he knew things. Said things about me. Where I’m from. How I got here.’

I wanted to push her but she seemed so wrung out it would have been cruel. I started drying the dishes that had been left on the draining board. She spotted a way she could be helpful and picked the hand towel off the back of the pantry door and joined me at the sink. Close to, she smelled of her nice perfume and rain. Smelled a bit like Heron too. I wondered if she would be the one to turn his head. Heaven knew she was good at it.

‘Can I tell you something?’ she asked, her voice not much more than a whisper. ‘Something that I’ve always thought was a secret?’

I nodded. Wiped the tea towel around the inside of a mug and looked down at the metal draining board so I wouldn’t have to stare into those big eyes of hers as she spoke. I was glad I did. I know for sure I’d have cried. When she were finished I had a hand on her forearm and she was stiff as a statue: both hands flat on the counter and her whole body rigid. I think it half killed her to tell me who she was and where she’d come from. I’ve wondered many times since whether the words I chose to say next were the right ones, but I know they put a bit of life in her eyes and that was better than seeing her as she was.

‘I’ve found some more of Fairfax’s writing,’ I said, under my breath. ‘In the church. Under the floor.’

It was as if somebody had lit a fire in the attic window of a deserted house. Whatever she had been through, all that mattered to her in that moment was a chance to read the words on the sheaf of papers.

‘Have you read it? Where were they hidden? Exactly? Show me, oh please, Flick, are they here?’

I found myself smiling. It was wrong of her to be so gleeful about such a thing but her excitement was contagious. I pulled a face of admonishment but couldn’t keep it up.

‘I haven’t read them. I thought I should wait …’

‘Wait for me? Oh, that’s so generous of you. I don’t think I could have forced myself to wait for you.’