‘That was quite a speech you made at my house,’ he said. ‘I apologise for never emailing you. I intended to come to Texel earlier, but there were complications and I didn’t want to disturb you or take the focus off this magnificent find.’

He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his eyes.

‘You’ve shown me something tonight that I never thought I’d get to see,’ he said. ‘My great-grandfather, give or take six generations, was an engraver in Amsterdam. He bought the painting off a friend – he never said who, but I assumed it was Catharina herself. I must admit, I became a little obsessed with her. The painting you referred to in your email was made by her sometime in 1652. It was her last and it’s special to me. I don’t like sharing my things, I suppose I am old-fashioned that way. But – for you – well. I thought you should see.’ He turned towards the exit and I followed him into the carpark. The moon lit up the street and fairy lights danced in the trees.

The car boot creaked as he opened it.

Inside was a painting, half in shadow.

I held my breath. There she was – a woman wearing a golden, silk dress, her hands wrapped around a red-cheeked infant. Catharina stood beside her, linking arms. They were on a beach, lapped by waves. Above them all, a perfect blue sky.

‘Do you like it?’

‘Oh, yes.’ I was overcome. I wanted to cry. Here was the proof all along that Anna had not perished. The dress had belonged to her after all. ‘I’m staying in town,’ Johann said. ‘You can come and see it again tomorrow, if you like. It belongs here. Perhaps we can discuss where it will go?’

I nodded, unable to find the words to thank him.

He closed the boot carefully, said goodbye and left me standing there.

The next morning, I woke early and drove to the place where Anna must have crawled along the sand after the storm blew through. I walked through the breakers, watched the sun dancing on the waves and felt the warmth and protection of my parents’ love encircling me. Somewhere out beyond the swell, Hilde, my mother’s seal, was surging through the water, a wild creature, free but connected to the place where she had found herself reborn.

EPILOGUE

1653