‘Oh. Oh, my.’

I could hear a voice in the background: ‘Steven? Steven? Are you all right?’

Another silence.

‘Mr Traynor?’

‘I’m so sorry. It’s just – I’m a little …’

I put my hand to my head. ‘It’s a huge shock. I know. I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of the best way to tell you. I didn’t want to just turn up at your house in case …’

‘No. No, don’t be sorry. It’s good news. Extraordinary news. A granddaughter.’

‘What’s going on? Why are you sitting down like that?’ The voice in the background sounded concerned.

I heard a hand go over the receiver, then: ‘I’m fine, darling. Really. I – I’ll explain everything in a minute.’

More muffled conversation. And then back to me, his voice suddenly uncertain: ‘Louisa?’

‘Yes?’

‘You’re absolutely sure? I mean, this is just so –’

‘As sure as I can be, Mr Traynor. I’m happy to explain more to you, but she’s sixteen and she’s full of life and she’s … well, she’s just very keen to find out about the family she never knew she had.’

‘Oh, my goodness. Oh, my … Louisa?’

‘I’m still here.’

When he spoke again I found my eyes had filled unexpectedly with tears.

‘How do I meet her? How do we go about meeting … Lily?’

We drove up the following Saturday. Lily was afraid to go alone, but wouldn’t say as much. She just told me it was better if I explained everything to Mr Traynor because ‘Old people are better at talking to each other.’

We drove in silence. I felt almost sick with nerves at having to enter the Traynor house again, not that I could explain it to the passenger beside me. Lily said nothing.

Did he believe you?

Yes, I told her. I think he did. Although she might be wise to have a blood test, just to reassure everyone.

Did he actually ask to meet me, or did you suggest it?

I couldn’t remember. My brain had set up a kind of static buzz just speaking to him again.

What if I’m not what he’s expecting?

I wasn’t sure he was expecting anything. He’d only just discovered he had a grandchild.’

Lily had turned up on Friday night, even though I hadn’t expected her until Saturday morning, saying that she’d had a massive row with her mother and that Fuckface Francis had told her she had some growing up to do. She sniffed. ‘This from a man who thinks it’s normal to have a whole room devoted to a train set.’

I had told her she was welcome to stay as long as (a) I could get confirmation from her mother that she always knew where she was, (b) she didn’t drink and (c) she didn’t smoke in my flat. Which meant that while I was in the bath she walked across the road to Samir’s shop and chatted to him for the length of time it took to smoke two cigarettes, but it seemed churlish to argue. Tanya Houghton-Miller wailed on for almost twenty minutes about the impossibility of everything, told me four times I would end up sending Lily home within forty-eight hours and only got off the phone when a child started screaming in the background. I listened to Lily clattering around in my little kitchen, and music I didn’t understand vibrating the few bits of furniture in my living room.

Okay, Will, I told him silently. If this was your idea of pushing me into a whole new life you certainly pulled a blinder.

The next morning I walked into the spare room to wake Lily and found her already awake, her arms curled round her legs, smoking by my open window. An array of clothes was tossed around on the bed, as if she had tried on a dozen outfits and found them all wanting.

She glared at me, as if daring me to say anything. I had a sudden image of Will, turning from the window in his wheelchair, his gaze furious and pained, and just for a moment it took my breath away.

‘We leave in half an hour,’ I said.

We reached the outskirts of town shortly before eleven. Summer had brought the tourists flocking back to the narrow streets of Stortfold, like clumps of earthbound, gaudily coloured swallows, clutching guidebooks and ice creams, weaving their way aimlessly past the cafés and seasonal shops full of castle-imprinted coasters and calendars that would be swiftly placed in drawers at home and rarely looked at again. I drove slowly past the castle in the long queue of National Trust traffic, wondering at the Pac-a-macs, the anoraks and sunhats that seemed to stay the same every year. This year was the five-hundredth anniversary of the castle, and everywhere we looked there were posters advertising events linked to it: morris dancers, hog roasts, fêtes …

I drove up to the front of the house, grateful that we weren’t facing the annex where I had spent so much time with Will. We sat in the car and listened to the engine ticking down. Lily, I noticed, had bitten away nearly all of her nails. ‘You okay?’

She shrugged.

‘Shall we go in, then?’

She stared at her feet. ‘What if he doesn’t like me?’

‘Why wouldn’t he?’

‘Nobody else does.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

‘Nobody at school likes me. My parents can’t wait to get rid of me.’ She bit savagely at the corner of a remaining thumbnail. ‘What kind of mother lets her daughter go and live at the mouldy old flat of someone they don’t even know?’