Page 251 of The Missing Sister

‘I hate saying goodbye when we’ve only just said hello. Please think about coming back here, Merry, or I can come to you in Dublin. In fact, anytime, anywhere.’

‘I will, I promise.’

He took my hand and kissed it, then enveloped me in a hug. ‘Please, take care of yourself, won’t you?’ he whispered gently. ‘And don’t you dare lose touch!’

‘I won’t. Bye, Peter, and thank you for lunch.’

I climbed into the cab and waved at him as we set off into the traffic.

Due to the build-up of tension, the emotion of actually seeing Peter again after all these years, plus the amount of wine I’d downed over lunch, I slept for most of the journey back to Dublin, only waking up when the man next to me nudged me to let him out.

In the taxi to Merrion Square, I felt half drugged, and could hardly believe that I’d actually just been with Peter after all these years.

Letting myself into Ambrose’s flat, I put down my holdall and walked into the sitting room, where he was in his usual chair.

‘Hello, Ambrose, I made it back safely,’ I smiled at him.

‘All went well then?’

‘Oh, it did! I was so unbelievably nervous, I literally fainted into his arms and...’

I suddenly became aware of the fact that we weren’t the only two people in the room. I turned to look behind me and there, sitting in the corner of the sofa, was a man I’d never seen before. As my gaze fell on him, he stood up. I saw that he was very tall, immaculately dressed in a suit and tie, and probably in his early sixties.

‘Do excuse me, sir, I didn’t notice you were there. I’m Merry McDougal, and you are?’ I asked him as I held out my hand.

For what seemed a very long time, the man didn’t answer, just stared at me as if he was mesmerised. His grey eyes looked a little wet, as if they had tears in them. My hand still reached towards him, but as he didn’t seem inclined to take it, I let it fall. Eventually, he seemed to shake himself out of his hypnotic state.

‘Do forgive me, Mrs McDougal. You bear a striking resemblance to... someone. I’m Georg Hoffman, and I am so very pleased to meet you.’

The man spoke perfect English, but with a pronounced accent I placed as German.

‘And... who are you?’

‘Please, won’t you sit down?’ Georg indicated the sofa. I looked over at Ambrose for reassurance.

‘Do sit down, Mary. Can I offer you a whiskey?’ he asked me.

‘Goodness, no, I’ve had far more than my fair share of alcohol today.’

I sat down tentatively, as did Georg Hoffman. I saw that he had a slim leather case very similar to the one Peter had brought with him this morning. He pulled a plastic file out of the case and laid it on his knee. I sighed, because after the day I’d had, I simply wanted to have a quiet cup of tea and a sandwich with Ambrose, tell him of my meeting with Peter and then slip down the stairs to bed.

‘Are you here to see me, or do you and Ambrose know each other?’ I asked.

‘Mary, Mr Hoffman is the lawyer of the dead father of all the sisters that have been trying to trace you recently,’ said Ambrose.

‘Please, call me Georg. I believe it was Tiggy you met here in Dublin.’

‘Yes, it was. But I’ve also met other sisters and their... partners around the world. That is, they’ve been trying to track me down.’

‘Yes, they have. And I’m here tonight because I now realise it should have been me who came to you in the first place, because I had more... details of your origins than my client’s daughters. But when the girls – as I call the sisters collectively came up with a plan to track their missing sister down, I took the decision to let them find you. They had been very successful in finding their own birth families, you see, and I had other matters to attend to. Let me now apologise for any inconvenience or worry I – and they – have caused you in the process.’

‘Thank you. The situation has caused me some distress, especially as I booked a Grand Tour to try to get over the loss of my husband.’

‘Mary, my dear, do forgive me, but that isn’t quite true, is it?’

I looked at Ambrose, wondering why on earth he was defending the behaviour of a set of sisters whom he knew had completely terrified me.

‘What I mean, Mr Hoffman, is that at the same time, Mary and I do hope you don’t mind me speaking for you,’ Ambrose continued, ‘was also on a search for herownpast. Ironically, as the sisters were trying to find her, she was searching for someone too. Someone that frightened and terrorised her as a young woman. Unfortunately, the two lines of enquiry became confused. Do you understand?’