Georg studied me thoughtfully, but didn’t seem remotely surprised by the question. ‘Extremely difficult, for the parent that is,’ he clarified. ‘As you can imagine, a child who is adopted, especially at a very young age, needs to feel settled and secure. Adoption authorities won’t take the risk of natural parents regretting their decision after the fact and introducing themselves to the child. You can imagine how disruptive it would be. And, of course, for the adoptive parents themselves, who have loved the child as their own, the reappearance of the natural mother or father would be very distressing, unless they agreed to it beforehand. However, if, like yourself, the adopted child wishes to seek out their natural parents once they are legally able to do so, then that’s a different story.’

I listened intently to what Georg was telling me. ‘So, if an adopted child did want to seek out their natural mother or father, where would they go?’

‘To the adoption authorities. These days, here in Switzerland at least, they keep a very careful record of these things. He would go there. I mean’ – Georg corrected himself immediately – ‘that is where any adopted child would need to begin.’

I watched a faint blush of colour tinge his pale cheeks. And in that moment, I realised he knew.

‘So, if a natural parent was – just for example – going to make a will and leave the child they’d given up for adoption a bequest, what would happen then?’

I watched Georg pause as he thought about his words carefully. ‘A lawyer would use the same route as any adopted child. He’d go to the adoption authorities and explain the situation. They would then – if the child was over sixteen years of age – contact the child, or, I should say, young adult concerned.’

‘And if the child wasn’t over sixteen?’

‘Then the authorities would contact the adoptive parents, who have the right to decide whether it would be beneficial for their child to know of the bequest at the time.’

‘I see.’ I nodded, now feeling oddly in control. ‘And if the adoption authorities were unable to trace the child concerned, and a lawyer had to use less . . . conventional means to find them, how easy would that be?’

Georg stared at me. And in that moment, his eyes told me everything his words couldn’t say. ‘For a competent lawyer, Maia, it would be easy, very easy indeed.’

I told Georg that I would do as we had discussed and construct a will. I also told him I would be sending him a letter, to be held by him and passed over in the event that any adoption agency, or male with the birth date I would give him, ever made contact. Then I left his office.

Outside, unwilling to go home before I’d had a chance to digest what I had just learnt, I parked myself at a table of a café that overlooked the lake and ordered a beer. I normally hated beer, but somehow as I put the bottle to my mouth, refusing the glass the waitress brought with it, the taste was reminiscent of Rio and it comforted me.