A few minutes later a short, round woman with dark red hair emerges from double doors at the back of the room. She’s wearing an apron and her cheeks are ruddy, as though the lunch service has been particularly strenuous.

‘Grüessech,’ she says. ‘You wanted to speak with me?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’m looking for someone who might live here and the lady in the bakery said you would know.’

‘I know everyone in Reichenbach.’ I swear I see her already ample chest puff out even more.

‘Great. Well, I’m looking for a man named Daniel Buchs.’

She smiles. ‘Oh yes, I know him very well.’

My heart dances. ‘You do?’

‘He comes here at least twice a week for lunch. One of my best customers.’

I look around me, as though he might be here right now, though of course I don’t have a clue what he looks like – the grainy photo on the hiking website gave no more than a rough idea.

‘You’re from England?’ She’s looking at me as though I’m a curiosity.

I nod.

‘I adore Cambridge!’ she says. ‘I love the… what do you say… ponts?’

‘Punts?’

‘Yes, punts! They are tip top!’

‘They are,’ I agree, though I’ve never been on one, or indeed to Cambridge. ‘So, Daniel Buchs. Could you tell me where he lives?’

She cocks her head. ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I’m not a complete stranger. He’s an… acquaintance. We’ve been in contact on email. I was just passing near the village and thought I’d surprise him, but I don’t know where he lives.’

She looks at me and appears to come to the conclusion that I’m not a criminal casing the joint. ‘Kientalstrasse,’ she says.

‘Could you…?’ I pass her a beer mat and fish a pen out of my bag and she takes it, scribbles the address on the back. ‘Thank you,’ I say when she passes it back. ‘Thanks for your—’

‘Such a shame he’s been on his own so long. I don’t know why he never met anyone else. One of our most eligible bachelors!’ She laughs and I smile politely, seeing in her expression a badly veiled longing for someone who, I suspect, has never shown more than a friendly interest in her. ‘I think she put him off for life!’ she adds. ‘I always thought there was something not… correct about her. He’s a very friendly man, but she was… colder. Always something troubling her. Always sad.’

‘Who?’ I drop the pen back into my bag.

‘His former wife,’ she says. ‘Anna.’

I’ve spent so long thinking that finding my mother was the key to the mystery of my life that I hadn’t considered I might find my father first.