‘That’s very kind of you. Not all the children were orphans in the true sense of the word. Some had been abandoned or were from broken homes. When I was sixteen, I ran away from the children’s home I was in to look for my brother. Then I met my future husband, who was eighteen at the time. His family took me in and helped me look for mine.

‘We managed to trace a close friend of my parents. Through her, I discovered David and I had lived in a big house in Sussex. When we were three, our father was seriously assaulted during a break-in and died of his injuries some months later. As a result, our mother had a breakdown and started drinking heavily. She confided in the local priest about her depression and drinking.’ Annette’s brow furrowed. ‘He rewarded her plea for help by informing the authorities and having us taken away,’ she said with bitterness in her voice.

‘My God, that’s awful,’ Becky exclaimed. ‘I thought the Church was supposed to help people in need!’

‘Were you reunited with your mother?’ Boon asked, moved by her painful story.

She shook her head. ‘No. Thanks to the priest, she ended up in Graylingwell asylum. She committed suicide when David and I were nine. My mother’s friend found out we were at the convent and wrote a letter to the Mother Superior, but we were never told about it.’

‘What possible reason could she have for not telling you?’ Becky asked.

‘In the eyes of the Catholic Church, suicide is a mortal sin, and she was an evil cow.’

‘Do you mind if I ask you some questions about your time at the Sisters of Mercy orphanage?’ Boon asked.

Annette let out a cynical laugh. ‘We used to call some of them the Sisters Without Mercy.’

‘Why was that?’

She looked sombre. ‘Because the Mother Superior and her minions were heartless and brutal in the way they treated us. Although I was only five, I’ll never forget my first day there.’

‘What happened?’ Becky asked, apprehensively.