Page 102 of Days You Were Mine

‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘To see this again means so much to me. But it belongs to you now, Luke.’

‘Alice no—’ I say but she interrupts.

‘It’s your beginning, Luke. The question mark in your story.’

‘But Jacob—’ I say.

‘Would want you to have it.’

She walks over and hugs us, first me, then Hannah.

‘You are both so kind,’ she says. ‘And I will love seeing this painting whenever I visit. But I’m looking into the future now.’

And she doesn’t need to say anymore.

Much later I lie next to Hannah in bed, listening to the soft in and out of her breathing, my mind whirring with the day’s events, the change in Alice, the change in all of us. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be able to process it.

I slide from the bed, as noiselessly as I can, and go downstairs to the kitchen.

The painting is the first thing I see, just as Alice left it, propped up against the wall. I kneel in front of it, looking and not looking. Allowing the painting to wash over me, the vibrant colours, the Italian sunshine, the young lovers, the start of it all.

There you are, I think.

I feel a kind of peace.

Acknowledgements

First of all a huge debt of thanks to Frances Ronaldson for being so understanding about this book and allowing me to subvert her joyful reunion with John for my own dark fictional purposes. The real life story has been the happiest event. Enormous thanks to my amazing agent Felicity Blunt. I count myself so lucky to have you on my side. Thanks also to Lucy Morris, an absolute rock of strength through the rollercoaster of publication.

Francesca Pathak, my editor at Orion, thank you again for your absolute connection with this story and for helping me to make it immeasurably better. My thanks to the whole team at Orion.

I have had so much help with the researching of this novel. Firstand foremost I must thank the psychotherapist and addiction counsellor Paul Sunderland of Outcome Consulting Ltd for his insightful wisdom into the hidden trauma of adoptees and for generously sharing his knowledge with me. Joel Harris is a fictional character largely inspired by my conversations with Paul and his groundbreaking research into this area.

Thank you to the adult adoptees for allowing me to join your equine therapy workshop and for sharing those most poignant and memorable days.

Claudia Navaneti for your insights into adoptee psychology and Dr James Stallard for fielding endless psychiatric questions.

Professor Andrew Stahl, my thanks for your memories of the Slade in the early 1970s, I loved hearing them. Thanks also to Jo Volley for the same.

The artists Brian Rice and Jacy Wall thank you for talking to me about life and art in the 1970s I so enjoyed the day we spent together.

Portrait painter Saied Dai, thank you for allowing me to join your life class and for your invaluable insights into painting and drawing, I could have listened to you talking all day.

Dave Meneer, my most wonderful friend, for your exacting and elephantine memory of student life in the early 70s. Who else would know the price of a pint of bitter in the Coach in 1972? (10p).

To Caroline Boucher for perfectly rock and roll recollections of the 70s but also for your generous and continuous support.

Anna and Pete Banks, I began this novel in your beautiful house in Southwold. Thank you for lending it to me, for introducing me to this incredible town and most of all to Anna for a lifelong friendship which means everything.

My thanks to Billy Jones for providing me with a writing sanctuary when I needed it most alongside unwaveringfriendship. Victoria Upson, the loyalest and funniest person I know, for showing me what true friendship is.

Thanks to Susy Pelly and Chloe Fox for sharing the joy and angst daily. Harriet Edwards and Lucinda Horton for your humour, brilliance and always making everything better. Hattie Slim, my secret weapon, I’m so glad I found you.

Thank you to the readers, bloggers and authors who enjoyedPictures of Himand told me so, I am so grateful for your support.

To Jane and Anna, for always standing beside me. I’m so glad I have you in my corner. Jake, Maya and Felix.Thank you for putting up with your distracted mother and for being the kind, funny, quirky and wonderfully individualistic people you are. I will always be more proud of you than anything else. And to the inspirational Diana Empson who is greatly missed.

Finally but most importantly Lucinda Martin and John Empson, this is not your story but it is your book. It comes to you with love.

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