It surprised me when I began telling him about Dad and Mum, about the other woman. Seeing her with Dad at the dogs, the way she looked on his arm, tall and glamorous, nothing like Mum. I’d never even told Roy. Jim just sat there and listened, sipping his coffee, eyes on the passing landscape.

‘That’s a lot for your mother to ask of you,’ he said when I paused. His hands cradled the mug of coffee. ‘To spy on your dad like that. I’m surprised she’d do that. She put you in the middle of things. It’s not a place for a child to be.’

‘I’m not a child. I wasn’t then either. I was nineteen.’ My words came out sharper than I meant them to be and Jim looked at me, his eyebrows drawn together.

‘I didn’t mean you were a child then—I mean it’s a lot to ask of your own children. Your offspring, your daughter or son. It’s a selfish thing to ask.’

‘What was she meant to do? She was only trying to find out the truth any way she could. I was the selfish one for not telling her. My mum is anything but selfish. She only ever thinks of other people.’

I felt my throat tighten and my chin quiver and I stood, pushing in my chair. ‘I’m going back to my seat.’

Jim leaned back in his chair. ‘Go on. You’ve gotten this far running away from the truth. Why stop and examine it now?’

I strode back to my carriage, pushing a fist beneath my ribcage. I couldn’t bear his smugness, his certainty that he was right. I slid past Mary into my seat and rested my head against the window, the vibration juddering my thoughts.

Mary turned to me. ‘You alright?’ She was knitting a baby’s jumper, yellow as a daffodil, with sleeves so narrow they seemed suited for a doll.

‘Just tired of this train. When do we bloody arrive?’

‘Tomorrow, haven’t you been listening? I think we’ll be in Roanoke before lunch. You’re lucky; I’ve got to wait until dinnertime before we get into Washington DC. I can’t wait to see my Owen.’

‘Is the jumper for your baby?’ I had been so busy wandering around the train, eating with Jim at every meal, that I hadn’t even noticed whether or not Mary was pregnant. She must have thought me impolite.

‘Yes, but I’m not expecting yet. Though it won’t be long, I hope.’ She smiled and tucked in her chin, looking down at the yellow yarn. ‘It’s cold, isn’t it? I thought if I do fall pregnant soon, it would be good to have a few little warm things laid by for the baby. My mum won’t be there to make them for me.’