‘I’ve done the sights.’ Joseph returned to the chair. ‘I’m here for business a lot but mainly see the inside of the hotel.’

‘Do you mind leaving your story in a strange city?’

‘Should I?’

‘It’s a question worth asking.’ Laure opened the file on Joseph Broad which Nic had prepared. ‘It might tie in with why you want to leave a donation and why you decided to look for her.’

Joseph Broad’s lips turned a shade paler. ‘It was a feeling. OK, I had a dream where I was minus my legs. I’d had a heavy night but the feeling bugged me for weeks afterwards. When I mentioned it to my partner, Paula, she said it was because I’ve no roots.’ He attempted to laugh. ‘I said that was cod psychology.’

Laure asked gently, ‘Can I use a cliché? Just because you’re paranoid does not mean they’re not out to get you. Paula might be correct.’

Joseph took ten seconds to process the suggestion. ‘I was adopted at six weeks and lived in Surrey with some nice, good people. I was well treated and I loved them but, always, always I felt this despair and I never knew why. They’re dead now but, since they died, I’ve had this urge to find out who I am. I paid a researcher to do the preliminaries and he located my mother and the agency who put me out for adoption. Via the agency, I made contact and we spoke on the phone.’

‘It was OK?’

‘It was OK.’

Joseph wasn’t telling the truth which was, probably, too difficult to handle at this point and it was not for Laure to probe. May extracted her laptop from the rucksack and Laure shot her a warning look.

‘The ticket?’

His shoulders tensed. ‘She promised to meet me in London. I offered to send a car but she wasn’t having any of it. We agreed she would come by train and I sent her the ticket for London.’ He edged the ticket towards Laure. ‘This is the return bit. First Class.’

Both Laure and May remained quite still. The finale to this story was predictable – and breathed sadness.

‘She promised she would come. She did promise.’ His gaze slid past Laure. ‘I can’t get over how pleased she sounded when I first made contact. She told me that you never stopped thinking about a baby that you gave away. She told me that my name wasn’t Joseph but Barney after my grandfather. I told her that she could call me Barney.’

A hush held the room.

‘And what did you tell her?’

His lips moved but no sound came out. He tried again, the words slipping and sliding away from him. ‘I told her that I longed to know her.’