‘We were, but not in that way. It’s impossible to explain, but I was his little girl, his first child. And he had such high hopes for me. I was flying at the Sorbonne and was expected to gain a first-class degree. To be honest, I would have died rather than ever tell him how stupid I’d been.’

‘What about Marina? Did she not try to persuade you to tell your father?’

‘Yes, she did, but I was adamant that I couldn’t. I know it would have broken his heart.’

‘So instead, you broke your own,’ Floriano countered.

‘It was the best option at the time.’

‘I understand.’

We sat there on the sofa in silence for a while, and I stared at the candle flickering in the darkness, reliving the pain of the decision I’d made.

‘It must have occurred to you at some point that your father had adopted six girls of his own,’ Floriano ventured suddenly. ‘And that perhaps he, of all people, would understand the predicament you were in?’

‘It didn’t at the time.’ My shoulders slumped in renewed despair. ‘But of course, since he died, I’ve thought about it constantly. Even so, I can’t explain who he was to me. I idolised him and wanted his approval.’

‘More than his help,’ Floriano clarified.

‘It wasn’t his fault, it was mine,’ I said, brutal with the truth. ‘I didn’t trust him, didn’t trust in his love for me. And I’m sure now that if I had told him, he would have been there for me, he would have . . .’ My voice trailed off to a whisper as fresh tears sprang to my eyes. ‘And I look at you and Valentina, in similar circumstances, and see how my life might have been now if I’d had the guts to be stronger, and think what a mess I’ve made of things so far.’

‘We all do things we regret, Maia,’ Floriano said sadly. ‘I wish every day that I’d been firmer with the doctors who told me to take my wife home from the hospital, when I knew instinctively that she was desperately ill. Perhaps if I had, my daughter would still have a mother, and I’d have a wife. But where does self-recrimination get us?’ he sighed. ‘Nowhere.’

‘But to give up my child, especially when the reasons were purely selfish and not motivated by poverty or war, has to be the worst crime of all,’ I stated.

‘Each of us thinks that our own mistake is the worst, because we have made it. We all live with guilt for our actions, Maia. Especially if we have chosen to keep them inside us for as long as you have. I’m sitting here feeling only sadness for you, not disapproval. And I really think that anyone else who heard your story would feel the same. It’s only you who blames yourself. Can’t you see that?’

‘I suppose so, but what can I do about it?’

‘Forgive yourself. It’s really as simple as that. Until you do, you won’t be able to move on. I know. I’ve been there.’