She guessed that Mario, like her, was probably thinking of Natalie at the same age, and the thought was heartbreaking.

‘Philip knew.’ She paused, thinking of her brother, who had been there in her hour of need, who as a newly minted adult had made all the arrangements, located the place, sat with her on the train, held her tight as she cried and then waved her goodbye as she got settled in the small room close to the hospital where she was to be confined. He had then met her on the day she was released. She had washed with sandalwood soap in the communal bathroom before leaving and the scent had clung to her skin for weeks. Even now, the merest whiff would transport her back to that place and time, about to put on the clothes she had arrived in. Her big brother had then walked with her slowly and in silence, all the way to the train station, with her suitcase in his hand, escorting her home to their dad’s daft jokes and their mum’s good-natured fussing. He hadn’t pressed her, hadn’t asked for details, but had simply let her be, as if he knew that the scooped-out shell of his little sister could not cope with any questioning at all.

Sworn to secrecy and with the weight of their shared experience crushing the closeness they had shared, they had slowly and steadily grown apart. Philip had stayed out longer, talked to her less and made plans without her knowledge. The two of them had harboured this biggest secret, which had sat between them like a wall of fire that neither was willing to step through. He had quietly but eagerly left home, moving further and further away, before coming to rest in Cheshire, where he and his wife had built a successful life. He had then chosen not to come back to the place where maybe the risk for him too of letting the secret bubble to his lips was a chance he was not willing to take.