‘Mum, I need to know what happened fifty-six years ago.’ There was no response, but she couldn’t give up now. ‘You know I don’t really remember my father or Moscow or even Boskenna.’

Her mother’s eyelids fluttered. ‘I had no choice.’

Diana frowned. ‘You had no choice to send me away?’ Her voice caught on the last word. She too had sent her daughter away. It was the right choice and in her heart she knew that was true.

Her mother opened her eyes. ‘Diana, I’m sorry.’

She began to speak then stopped.

She had waited years to hear those words. Now they took the fight from her.

Her mother’s voice was so faint. ‘I was wrong to do what I did but . . .’

‘But what?’

Her mother’s eyes closed again but Diana was sure she was still awake. ‘Mum, talk to me.’

Her head moved from side to side. ‘Forgive me, please.’

‘How can I forgive you when you lied to me?’ She pulled her hand away, thinking of the neat writing listing what room George was in and where he sat at dinner.

Her eyes opened wide before she said, ‘All parents lie to their children.’

Diana gave a dry laugh. ‘I’m not talking Father Christmas here.’ She took a breath. ‘George Russell was here when my father died.’

‘No.’

‘Yes, Lottie found your notebook. Don’t lie.’

Her mother tried to take a deep breath, but it turned into a cough. Once she had stopped, Diana watched her lay motionless, all energy wasted. The only sign of life was the occasional rasp until she whispered, ‘It wasn’t important.’

‘What? The man who became your second husband wasn’t important?’ She shook her head, but her mother didn’t her see. She was looking out of the window. Her thoughts clearly faraway. ‘You lied.’

Rising from the bed, she walked to the window. A few clouds had appeared softening the heat. How could she forgive her?

‘I had to do it . . . you must understand.’

‘No, I don’t.’ She wasn’t sure if there was anything that angered her more than being lied to.

‘I thought it best.’

‘Ah, like sending me away?’

‘It was for the best.’ Her mother turned to her with eyes full of remorse. ‘I did it for you.’

Diana swung around. ‘Why didn’t you love me enough to keep me with you?’ Once the words were out, she wanted to take them back. If she had thought her mother pale before, she’d been wrong. A ghost lay on the bed in front of her.

‘If you thought I didn’t love you, I’m sorry.’ Each word took more from her. ‘I love you and have loved you since the moment you came into my life.’