I shook my head in disbelief. ‘My mother? You must be thinking of someone else.’

Gerrit looked confused.

‘You don’t have to pretend,’ I said. ‘It’s not your job to protect her memory out of some misguided loyalty. I can handle the truth.’

‘What are you talking about?’

I was almost afraid to go on, but I knew this story off by heart. It was one I’d repeated to myself hundreds of times over the years. Saying it aloud to someone else only made it truer, not less. ‘My parents didn’t care about me. They were so wrapped up in their own lives, they couldn’t wait to get away from me. That’s why they were never around when I was hurt or confused or needed guidance. I don’t hold it against them. God knows, I’d probably be the worst parent in the world. I was just lucky I had my best friend Bram’s mum and dad to turn to. They looked after me.’

‘You’re wrong,’ Gerrit said. ‘I’m sorry, but I must respectfully disagree.’ He paused, and when he looked back down at me, his gaze was a little fiercer, more urgent. ‘Your parents loved you. They knew you were highly intelligent. If they seemed a trifle distant, it was because they wanted you to have some degree of independence. I remember Hilde taking you to a university on the mainland when you were about eight to take part in a program for gifted children. I think they already knew you were going to be something pretty special. The professor in charge of the program told Hilde she needed to stop coddling you. You needed to be allowed to make mistakes. Your particular type is the kind that thrives best when you have something to strive for, when you don’t have the fear of familial obligations holding you back. Hilde and Hans only wanted to create the kind of opportunities and conditions that might allow that to happen. I think you’ve proved their approach was the right one, don’t you?’

Anger pulsed in my gut and I glared at him. My hand itched, as if it might strike on its own, aiming straight for his chin. In that moment, he was the embodiment of both my parents, their ability to deflect my hurt feelings almost second nature, shrinking my emotional response to the size of a pea, to something that could be managed, hidden away out of sight.

I stood suddenly and he took a step back, as though the movement had caught him off guard.

‘I’d like to see the cottage now.’

‘Of course.’ He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a tarnished key. He placed it in my palm and I turned and strode outside, heading in the direction of the cottage, aware that he was still standing, dumbstruck, watching me through the open door.

I didn’t look back.