The house has belonged to the same family for seventy years, and the last resident, a ninety-seven-year-old man, died a month ago. I look up, and take note of the large brown stain, roughly the shape of Australia, and the damaged but beautiful cornicing. The house will be worth a fortune once it’s done up, but it’ll cost a lot to restore and the executors are asking an eye-watering price. I’m not sure it’s worth it.

We spend three-quarters of an hour exploring the house and grilling the agent, then I make my way home. Away from Rupert, and the buzz of a potential new restoration, I start to think about Anna again. The wristband is in my bag. The fact that she had, and presumably gave away, a baby daughter, is heart-breaking. She was so young; several years younger than I was when I got pregnant with Lottie. I find it all too easy to empathize. We were both a mess, both torn about what to do, both with the wrong man. Douglas at least faced up to his responsibilities and fell in love with his daughter. If the baby was Tim’s, then he walked away and lived his life without a second thought.

I slow at the corner to my street, then keep going without turning. I can’t go home now. Instead I ride to the hospital and find my way back to ICU. The nurse on duty tells me that Anna’s parents are with her but that I can poke my head round the door and say hello if I want.

Jess and Sean Wells look up when I walk in. I compose myself and come forward. They both stand. Jess is petite and plump, with dyed brown hair. She wears clothes that fit snugly over her curves, a woollen dress over woollen tights worn with flat brown boots. Sean is wearing a lumberjack-style flannel shirt over blue jeans. He is almost entirely bald.

‘How long have you known our daughter?’ Jess asks after I’ve introduced myself and explained my presence here.

‘Not long. Only since the start of the year.’ I hesitate. ‘I understand you were estranged?’

‘It wasn’t our choice.’

She gazes down at Anna then smiles, and her smile reminds me of Kai.

‘Did you want to talk to her? Sean and I need a break anyway. Why don’t you stay a minute? I’m sure she’d love to hear your voice.’

I look at Anna, at the tubes keeping her alive and the monitors charting her vital signs. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘If you don’t mind.’

When they’ve left, I sit down and rest my bag on my knee. I open my mouth a couple of times, but nothing comes out. I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to even begin to unblock the lines of communication when someone is in an unresponsive state.