I went home.

To the bookshop.

‘Miss Winter is dead,“ I told my father.

‘And you? How are you?“ he asked.

‘Alive.“

He smiled.

‘Tell me about Mum,“ I said to him. ”Why is she the way she is?“

He told me. “She was very ill when you were born. She never saw you before you were taken away. She never saw your sister. She nearly died. By the time she came around, your operation had already taken place and your sister…”

‘My sister had died.“

‘Yes. There was no knowing how it would go with you. I went from her bedside to yours… I thought I was going to lose all three of you. I prayed to every God I had ever heard of to save you. And my prayers were answered. In part. You survived. Your mother never really came back.“

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