‘Your father,’ she said, her own voice now thick with emotion, ‘only had one lapse in his marriage, Tess, and it was many, many years ago. One moment of weakness after he discovered something about your mum.’

I was relieved that she didn’t elaborate on what that was.

‘Hope,’ Sophie carried on, now looking at her daughter as she drew in the deepest breath and her eyes filled with tears.

It was a shock to see. I’d never seen her face do anything other than smile.

‘What?’ Hope asked, sounding as unsure as Sophie looked.

Dad lifted his eyes from the table again.

‘You know I told you that your father was a holidaymaker from here in Wynmouth?’

‘Yes,’ said Hope, her eyes now tracking from my dad to her mum and back again, as were mine.

‘You can’t be serious?’ I whispered.

‘Are you telling me . . .’ Hope joined in.

‘Yes,’ Sophie cut in, her voice barely louder than a whisper, ‘Hope, this is your dad.’

Stunned silence descended and I came to the conclusion that this was all a dream. I would wake up in a minute and find myself back in Crow’s Nest Cottage, sweating and with the sheet wrapped tightly around me.

‘Say something,’ Sophie begged her daughter. ‘Please.’

‘I remember you,’ Hope slowly said, pointing at Dad and dashing all thoughts that I was in a dream-state and not really sitting next to her in the café. ‘You spoke to me, didn’t you? And I went running to Mum because I thought you were some weirdo.’

Dad nodded, clearly remembering the same thing.

‘I thought I’d worked out who you were,’ Dad said, ‘and ended up getting carried away and asking too many questions.’

‘Was that the year you cut our holiday short?’ I asked. ‘It was our last holiday in Wynmouth, wasn’t it? You said we had to leave because of work, but that wasn’t why, was it?’

‘Yes, it was that year,’ said Dad, ‘and no, we didn’t really have to go because of work. I was convinced that Hope was my daughter and thought it best if we left.’

I couldn’t believe it.

‘So, you’ve been here before?’ Hope asked, twisting around to look at me. ‘This isn’t your first time in Wynmouth?’

‘We used to come here every year for our summer holidays,’ I told her. ‘I know the place like the back of my hand.’

‘Oh my god,’ she gasped, not sounding like herself at all.