‘Yes.’ She reaches forward and puts her hand on my arm. ‘We have to help each other now, not be jealous. We’ve both had everything all wrong.’

And just like that I know she’s on my side.

‘Back in a minute.’ She gets up and heads inside, presumably for the toilet. I look out towards the lake where a boat is sliding into port. It reminds me of when I first arrived here, of my mission to discover the truth and my need for a Swiss cure. So far I’ve failed on the first count, but perhaps, now, after today’s cathartic unburdening, I might be able to succeed on the second.

I remember my phone and fish it out of my bag to read whatever message was sent. My heart lurches when I see the email.

<From: [email protected]>

Dear Jessica,

I’m sorry for my long silence. I knew that one day this could happen, but for many years I haven’t decided how I would deal with it. I would like to meet you. I think that, perhaps, you have already seen me, one day in Reichenbach. Something made me think it was you there, outside my house. But first you have to meet someone else. Anna must explain what happened in Lausanne in 1976. It is her story to tell. I hope, after that, you will still want to meet me. She lives in Germany now with her husband. Her number is…

‘Jess? What’s wrong?’ Julia’s face is creased in concern when she comes back into the garden. I hand her my phone. She reads the message and looks at me.

‘You’ve found her.’

I nod. My body is shaking, like I’m low on blood sugar. I raise my glass, feel the dry, cold wine slip down my throat.

‘Are you going to call her?’

‘I can’t.’

‘Then I will. If you want me to, I’ll call her right now.’

I breathe out a long breath. Do I want that? She takes my hand, squeezes it. ‘That’s what you came here for, n’est-ce pas?’

I nod. Julia takes a last, hard look at me, punches the number into her mobile and goes into the living room. There’s a pause, and then I hear her voice, speaking German. I fixate on a sailboat on the lake and try not to think about what she might be saying, what Anna might be telling her in response. I just look at the sailboat as it moves slowly through a dark patch on the water, blown by the light wind, and wonder where life’s going to take me now. It’s ten minutes before Julia finally comes back into the garden. She stands in the doorway and I see tears in her eyes.

‘Does she want to meet me?’ I say.

She nods.

SEPTEMBER 1976 Lausanne, Switzerland

SYLVIA