Ruth’s eyes stayed fixed on the newspaper articles, and Alice saw her swallow hard as she tried to conceal a sob, then her shoulders shook and her body released a shudder as she placed her hand across her mouth.

These were the arms that had once held and comforted Alice, hands that had fed and cared for her. Parents were supposed to nurture and love their children. But the natural order of things had changed for Alice, starting from when her father and then William died, then Ruth had become mentally unstable and begun trusting too much in her faith. Now Alice didn’t understand her mother at all.

Ruth looked up from the articles, her eyes reflecting her horror. “I’m so sorry.”

Alice was still standing, arms crossed, looking down at her. “Are you going to tell me the truth now?” she asked in a level voice.

Ruth sniffled. “There’s nothing left to tell. I answered all the questions the policewoman asked.”

Sergeant Burns had contacted Alice after the interview as she’d promised she would, but told her she’d learned nothing from Ruth that would help with their inquiry.

“There has to be more,” she pleaded. “What did the couple look like? You’ve never told me that.”

Ruth’s neck snapped back as she gazed upward and Alice wasn’t sure if she was looking to her God for inspiration, or just staring at the ceiling.

“Come on, Mum. If you met them twice you must have some recollection?”

“They were different. The man I met the first time had dark hair that was combed back behind his ears, and he wore a suit. The man who collected Eadie was in a uniform. I remember him now,” Ruth said, frowning in concentration. “He had terrible skin, but I thought he must be respectable because he was a member of the Home Guard.”

“Did you tell the policewoman that?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Alice wanted to take her mother by the arms and shake her; ask her how she could forget something so important, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words.

“That’s why I trusted them, Alice,” Ruth said with a tentative smile. “And the woman was tiny, and so overjoyed to hold a baby in her arms.”

She must have realized how insensitive she’d been because her smile quickly faded. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know about any of this. . . .” She pushed the clippings away, suddenly looking as revolted as Alice felt. “I know what you’ve been through, and what I’ve done must seem cruel, but I had my reasons.”

“What reason could there possibly be for farming out your own grandchild?” Alice spat the words, and Ruth recoiled in her chair.

Then Alice took her journal out of her bag and placed it on the table in front of her mother.

Ruth sat motionless, her knuckles white, lips pressed together.