‘Every day I think about where my son might be, whether he’s happy and if the parents he went to are loving him. I sometimes hear him crying for me in my dreams, but I can never find him . . .’

‘I understand, but remember that you too are adopted, querida. Do you think you have suffered because of it?’ Floriano asked me.

‘No, because I haven’t known any other life.’

‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘You’ve just answered your own question. You’ve told me once before that you didn’t think it mattered who brought up a child, as long as it was loved. It will be the same for your son, wherever he is. I’d wager that the only person truly suffering because of all this is you. Now, I think I could do with a brandy.’ He released himself from around me and went to a narrow shelf to retrieve a bottle. ‘Want some?’ he asked me as he poured a small amount into a glass.

‘No thanks.’ I watched him as he wandered across the terrace to light a cigarette and stood there looking out into the darkness. Eventually, feeling vulnerable and insecure, I went to join him.

‘You do realise,’ he said eventually, ‘that all this revelation about your own heritage has made you think even more about your son?’

‘Yes,’ I acknowledged. ‘After all, Pa Salt has allowed all of his adopted girls to discover their origins if they wish. Surely my child has a right to discover his too?’

‘Or at least a right to choose if he wishes to,’ Floriano corrected me. ‘You said yourself you were reticent about digging into your background. And besides, you were told from the start that you were all adopted. Perhaps your son hasn’t been given that information. It’s entirely possible that he is unaware.’

‘I just wish I could see him once, to know that he is safe . . . happy.’

‘Of course you do. But perhaps you should put him first and realise that it may not be the best thing for him,’ he said gently. ‘Now, it’s past one in the morning and I have to be up bright and early for the little senhorita downstairs.’

‘Of course,’ I said, turning round immediately, crossing the terrace and retrieving my bag from under the table. ‘I’ll go.’

‘Actually, Maia, I was going to suggest you stay here. I don’t think you should be alone tonight.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I said, panicked by his suggestion and heading for the door.

‘Wait.’ Floriano chuckled as he caught up with me. ‘I didn’t mean you should stay with me. I meant that you could sleep in Petra’s room. She’s gone home to Salvador to see her family for a week. Really, please stay here. I’ll worry about you if you don’t.’

‘Okay,’ I agreed, feeling too exhausted to argue. ‘Thank you.’

Floriano blew out the candles and switched off his computer, then we both walked downstairs and he pointed me in the direction of Petra’s room.