Anna nodded and held up five fingers, pointing to her stomach. Judging by the similar size of their bellies, Sylvia supposed that meant five months gone, just like her. She repeated the gesture, holding up five fingers, and Anna smiled so her whole face lit up.

She looked so young. Sylvia felt a sudden pang of sympathy for her – what must she be feeling, to have a baby coming and no job, no home, no parents in the picture and such a tough upbringing? And there was she, with a husband, a nice flat she’d currently deserted, a job with a regular salary and the right to return to it after maternity leave.

What would Anna think of her, if she knew? Would she think Sylvia ungrateful not to be as delighted with her pregnancy as Anna clearly was with hers? She wished she could tell her that she was rooting for her, that she hoped everything would go well for her, that her future would be better than her past. But she couldn’t, so instead she fished around in her bag and found a packet of English sweets she’d picked up at Heathrow.

She held it out to Anna and the girl took one with a smile. Merci.

Sylvia took one too and they both sat back on the grass, the sun on their faces, their mouths full of caramel sweetness.

Down by the lakeshore, Evelyne and Daniel were standing ankle deep in the water, facing each other, their conversation clearly heated. Sylvia glanced at Anna and saw she was looking at them too, her eyes shiny. Spontaneously, Sylvia reached out and squeezed her hand. Anna turned to her and smiled, a smile full of fear and sadness and uncertainty and hope, and in that moment Sylvia knew they understood each other perfectly, despite the language barrier. However dissimilar their backgrounds and however big the gulf between their futures was likely to be, here, in this moment, on the lakeshore at Lutry, they weren’t so different after all.

JULY 2016 Thun/Reichenbach, Switzerland

JESS

On Sunday morning I get on a train heading for Visp, where I’ll change for a second one bound for Thun. In my phone’s maps I’ve pinned Hopfenweg 31, the place that could prove the key to everything. The usual guilt about Dad unfurls in my chest as I watch the houses and fields and orchards go by, but I push it away. I won’t feel guilty about something that’s not my fault. I won’t feel guilty for needing to know who I am. Perhaps, later today, I’ll find that out. My stomach plunges at the thought. I don’t know if I’m ready.