Now you do, I think. But what if I find your real daughter? What then? I’ve never doubted my parents’ love for me, not really, but there have been times when I think I’ve disappointed them. Not been ambitious enough for them, not been forthright enough, not achieved enough. So what if, as I fear, the other daughter is better than me? What if she’s everything my parents wanted? Might Dad end up loving her more?

He breaks the pause. ‘What’s happened, Jessie? Have you found anything out?’

‘No. I don’t know anything, not yet. I just wanted to chat, that’s all.’

Another pause. ‘Do you remember when you fell over roller-skating and bashed your head on the pavement? You must have been about eleven or twelve.’

I smile. ‘Yeah. I was so proud of those stitches at school. Got all the attention.’

‘D’you know, I’d forgotten all about it. And then I came across this photo of the three of us in an album and I noticed you had a big plaster on your forehead and then I remembered it so clearly it felt like yesterday. And yet before seeing the picture, it had gone completely out of my head!’

I remember Mum taking me to the hospital to get stitches; how annoyed she’d been at having to wait so long to be seen because she had some work thing she’d be late for. Rachel telling all the boys at school I’d been in a fight so they’d think I was cool, and her by default.

‘Anyway,’ Dad continues. ‘I got it framed. It’s a lovely picture, even with the plaster on your head. We all just look so…’

Happy?

‘Anyway. Just thought I’d say.’

I swallow down the lump in my throat. ‘I’m glad you framed it. I’d like to see it when I’m back.’

‘When is that again?’

‘Another month. I’ll come and see you as soon as I’m home.’

‘Good,’ he says. ‘I’ll invite Maggie down. We can all have a good catch-up.’

‘I’d like that.’

‘Good,’ he says again. ‘Jessie?’

‘Yes?’ I can hear he wants to say something, and I hope he’ll tell me what I need to hear, that everything’s okay, that he doesn’t think of me any differently, that he’ll always love me, whatever I find out.

‘Take care of yourself, okay?’ he says.

I nod, keep my voice steady. ‘I will, Dad, I will.’