There’s nothing mysterious about my sister. She wasn’t hard to find. It’s just I’d never tried. All I had to do was look up where she works and catch a few buses over there. It turned out it was quite a long way, but still. I didn’t need a passport or anything. It would have been better, I guess, to phone ahead and make sure she was working that day, but we’re not talking about some secret hideout here.

To be fair to me, she had never tried to find me, either. She didn’t send Christmas cards or any of that stuff because of Dad. Because I was round the corner from Dad all those years, and seeing him every day to take his meals and help him put on his socks, stuff like that, and she didn’t want anything to do with him. I wouldn’t argue with that. She had her reasons.

If someone asked Dad about her, he’d ignore them. If pushed he’d say, she’s nothing to do with me, what are you asking me for? I grew up putting all of that in one corner of my head. She’s nothing to do with him. But then in another corner of...

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