‘I came here in part to see if I could find my biological parents,’ I say. ‘They were most likely Swiss, or at least the woman was. Mum – the person I’ve always known as my mother – gave birth prematurely at the hospital in Lausanne when she was over here for a story, and somehow I must have been swapped with her baby. That’s the only explanation we could think of, anyway. I contacted the hospital and they’ve investigated, but they don’t know how it happened. Only three other women gave birth to girls that night. Two they tracked down and tested. But the third woman they just couldn’t find. She’d disappeared. No paper trail.’ I shake my head and stare into my cooling cup of tea.

Brigitte Mela. The only likely candidate to be my biological mother.

‘It’s taken me two years to pluck up the courage, but I felt I had to come here to see if I could uncover anything myself. Maybe I can find her.’ Perhaps my biological father too; maybe even the other daughter – the woman who’s been living the life that should have been mine. Though I’m not sure if I actually want to know who that is.

I take a breath and look at Jorge, but when I see the stricken expression in his eyes, my face prickles with embarrassment. I shouldn’t have told him. Shit, I really shouldn’t have told him. I don’t even know this man.

He runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a long, tense breath as though he’s been holding it in the whole time I was speaking. ‘Joder,’ he says, and I can guess from the tone of his voice what that particular Spanish word must mean. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’

I put my mug on the coffee table and my head in my hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say.

I look up and he’s staring at me with incredulity. ‘It’s completely insane, Jess. I’m just… I mean…’ I almost want to laugh, he looks so shocked. ‘When you said you were going through something, I thought maybe… I don’t know, a break-up or something.’

‘Well, now you mention it, my husband and I are getting divorced.’

‘Joder,’ he says again.

I take his mug from his hand and add it to mine on the table. ‘I realise my head’s not in a good place right now,’ I say, my voice soft, ‘but I really want this job and I think those kids are fantastic and I promise I’m not going to do anything to hurt them – or their parents. I really am sorry.’

‘Have you had help with this? I mean, therapy or something?’