Those first few weeks were a maelstrom of nappies, burping and long nights of feeding. I had insisted that Marina move into the main house so that I might provide support during the small hours. I think those were some of my favourite moments – when Maia and I were alone, in the still of the night, with only the sound of the lapping lake for company. She has taught me so much, without ever uttering a word. For thirty years, I have been so focused on finding Elle and chasing the prophecy given to me by Angelina that I have become closed off to others. I was self-absorbed, single-minded and obsessed. Baby Maia has opened my eyes. I am alive in a way which I have not been for years.

Marina says she knew the moment I laid eyes on Maia that I would never be able to part with her. Indeed, I had accepted my destiny before the wheels of the plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle. Maia had been as good as gold for the entire flight, and listened to my entire repertoire of Seven Sisters mythology to boot. To cradle such an innocent, fragile human in my ageing hands reminded me of this world’s most comforting lesson: that whatever may happen, life prevails.

I had been nervous about telling Marina of my decision, worried that she would think me ill-equipped for the position of parent. I needn’t have been so concerned. In fact, her face flooded with joy.

‘Oh, this is truly wonderful news, chéri! Of course it is right that you legally adopt Maia. You need her as much as she needs you.’

I embraced her, before stating the inevitable. ‘I cannot do it on my own, Marina.’

She laughed. ‘Nor should you! I’ve watched you trying to put on a nappy. I think an orangutan could do it with more precision!’

‘You’re saying that you will stay and care for Maia?’ I asked with excitement.

‘Yes, chéri. Of course.’

Georg finalised the adoption papers. At his suggestion, Maia’s surname has been registered as ‘D’Aplièse’ to prevent any unwelcome attention that may arise as a result of her being a ‘Tanit’.

And just like that, I am a father.

As I approach the age of sixty, I have come to realise that Angelina’s prophecy is unlikely to come true. Of course, I still have Georg search the databases of the world for Elle’s name, but the physical trips to follow up on tenuous leads have become less frequent. Whenever I am away, I simply cannot wait to return to Atlantis and spend time with little Maia. I love nothing more than to take her toddling around the gardens and down to the shoreline, and to tell her lengthy bedtime stories about my adventures.

This does not mean, of course, that I am not deeply pained by the concept that I already have a biological daughter living in the world – one who needs me as much as little Maia does. I simply try not to think about it too much. For so long, I have put my faith in stars and prophecies. Perhaps it is time to live in the real world.

I was given a sharp reminder to do so earlier this evening, when I received a telephone call. Normally, when I pick up the receiver, it is Georg. My calls are screened through his firm, to prevent any unwanted contact from Eszu (who, by the way, has been as quiet as a mouse).

‘Good evening, Georg,’ I said, answering the call.

‘Hello?’ replied a voice in a Norwegian accent.

‘Horst?’ I asked. He and Astrid, along with the Forbes family and Ralph Mackenzie, are the only humans I permit to have a direct line to Atlantis.

‘Good evening, Bo. I hope I’m not troubling you?’

‘Not at all, my dear friend. How are you?’ I asked, slipping back into Norwegian – effortlessly, if I may brag.

‘Oh, physically, I am well, as is Astrid.’

I picked up the telephone unit and took a seat in my leather office chair. ‘I read about Felix’s latest composition in The Instrumentalist magazine. Bravo! You must be very proud.’

When he replied, Horst sounded grim. ‘Proud is the last thing I am of my grandson.’

‘Oh.’ I was taken aback.

‘Before I get into that, tell me, Papa, how is young Maia?’ he asked.

‘Incredibly well! Thank you for asking, Horst. Just this morning I caught her reading Winnie the Pooh aloud to herself. Not actually reading it – she’s still only three. But she was adjusting her voice for different characters, just as I do when I narrate it to her myself . . .’ I had to stop myself gushing.

Horst chuckled. ‘Children are a blessing.’

‘She teaches me something new every day,’ I said, mindlessly curling the wire of the phone around my finger. ‘Even if that thing is how to scrub chocolate out of a shirt.’

‘I’m very happy to hear that the both of you are getting along so famously.’ There was a pause on the line. ‘Dare I ask about Elle?’

‘There is nothing to report, I’m afraid to say, Horst. As each day passes I lose more hope. As you know, I will never stop my search, but I have Maia to focus on now.’

‘I know you do.’

I was struggling to hear my old friend down the line. ‘Sorry, Horst, it’s a little difficult to hear you. Is there any way you could speak a little louder?’

‘Uh . . . no, I’m afraid not. Astrid’s asleep upstairs, and the matter I wish to discuss should remain private between you and me.’

I sat up in my chair. ‘Is everything all right?’

Horst exhaled. ‘Frankly, my old friend, it is not.’ He tutted. ‘It’s Felix. He’s got himself into a rather difficult situation.’

‘I see. Well, I’ll provide any advice I can.’

‘As you know, Felix has become famous here in Bergen. In fact, in all of Norway. People know him as the orphan of the great Pip Halvorsen and his beautiful wife Karine, who died so tragically when their son was an infant. There have been articles on it, and I dare say that the prodigal son has begun to believe in his own myth.’

‘I see,’ I replied, not entirely sure of how to respond.

‘All this has been compounded by the fact that he has been given a teaching role at the University of Bergen. There are many young women there . . .’

I didn’t like where this conversation was going. ‘Young women?’

‘Yes. Whenever Astrid and I see him, which is rare these days, there is a new one on his arm. And he drinks far too much.’ Horst gave an exhausted sigh.

I thought for a moment. ‘He is a young man with a little fame and notoriety. I think it would be naive to expect anything else,’ I encouraged. ‘Hopefully it is a phase he will grow out of as the years pass.’

Horst guffawed. ‘Not if he keeps drinking. He will simply disintegrate.’

I considered the help I could offer. ‘You know, there are some highly reputable rehabilitation clinics available across Europe. As you know, my friend, there is no problem when it comes to money. Perhaps you would allow me to finance a treatment plan for Felix?’

‘Thank you, Bo. But I understand the key to successful rehabilitation is to want to be rehabilitated, which I can most emphatically confirm Felix does not. Anyway,’ Horst continued, ‘the matter at hand is more complex.’

I stood up in anticipation. ‘Please, tell me exactly what you mean.’

‘Two days ago, whilst I was out shopping for groceries in Bergen, a young woman approached me. She looked pale and ashen, as if she had been deprived of sleep for many weeks. She said her name was Martha, and that she was pregnant with twins.’

‘Ah,’ I said, beginning to understand.

‘I wished her well, and asked her what it had to do with me. Then she told me that Felix was the father.’

‘Oh Horst.’

‘She said she was a student of his, and that they were deeply, deeply in love. But apparently my grandson will not respond to her requests for support.’

I felt deeply for the man who had shown me such kindness. ‘This is the last thing you and Astrid need, Horst.’

‘Quite. But it gets worse. When I met her, Martha seemed somehow . . . troubled. The way she spoke and the frantic look in her eye . . . So I told her not to worry, took her telephone number, and told her I would contact Felix, to buy me a little time. Despite everything, I was giving my grandson the benefit of the doubt. I went to see him in his cabin that evening. He was shocked when he opened the door to me, and desperately tried to hide the empty bottles as I walked inside. I told him about the woman in the supermarket.’

‘How did he respond?’

‘Angrily. He said that Martha had taken one look at him at the university and immediately fallen head over heels in love, to the point of obsession. I asked him if he had slept with her, and he admitted to it. So, naturally, I told him he was to come with me and take responsibility for his actions.’

‘What did he say to that?’

‘He flat out refused. He said that Martha had a long-term partner, and it made logical sense that the pregnancy was his doing, rather than his own.’

I rubbed my eyes with my free hand. ‘I see.’

‘Felix told me that Martha suffers from mental health issues too numerous to mention. He begged me to believe that she is a danger to him.’

I pondered the situation. ‘Do you believe him?’

Horst sighed. ‘After my confrontation with Felix, I met up with Martha at a restaurant outside of the city. She described her romantic encounters with my grandson in a little too much detail, including dates, and it seems to me that there is little doubt. Felix is the father.’

It was very difficult to know how to advise Horst. ‘Right,’ was all I managed in response.

‘But . . .’ Horst was clearly finding every second of this painful. ‘I think Felix is right about Martha. She does seem to be completely obsessed with him, despite the fact they were only together twice. Not that it excuses Felix’s actions, but I at least take his point about the young lady’s mental health.’

I crossed over to my bookshelf, and picked up the lucky frog that Pip had gifted me on the Hurtigruten. ‘Is the child well in the womb?’ I enquired.

‘Children,’ Horst replied sullenly. ‘She’s having twins. The ultrasound confirmed it.’

‘Forgive me, is that where they are able to bring up an image of the baby? Or babies in this case?’

‘Yes.’ Horst took a moment to gather himself. ‘This is where things become absurd. I asked Martha if she knew the sex of the children. She nodded, and proudly told me that she was expecting a boy. But when she informed me the other was a girl, she rolled her eyes and grimaced.’

I frowned. ‘So she was pleased to learn about her son, but not her daughter?’

‘Precisely. Martha said that she and Felix were going to have a perfect boy, the next great Halvorsen man.’ Horst groaned. ‘When I asked about her daughter, she simply shrugged, as if totally dismissing her existence.’

I gripped the lucky frog tightly, as if willing it to somehow improve the situation. ‘Good Lord. Why?’

‘As I told you, this young woman is deeply mentally troubled.’

‘Does Astrid know anything of this situation?’

‘No. I won’t burden her with it until I have to. And rest assured, I will have to. These are my great-grandchildren . . . my dear son’s grandchildren. I cannot ignore Martha and the situation which has presented itself.’

I understood Horst’s sentiment. It’s doubtless that I would have felt the same were I in his shoes. ‘What do you plan to do?’

Horst took a deep breath. ‘There is no chance of Felix accepting responsibility and doing the decent thing. I feel ashamed of his behaviour.’ His voice cracked a little. ‘And so would his father.’ Horst cleared his throat and regathered his composure. ‘Apologies, Bo. Anyway, I have concluded that we must take Martha in after she gives birth. I am not convinced that the babies will be safe on their own. I owe it to my son, and to Karine, to make sure their bloodline is unharmed.’

Did this man’s kindness know no bounds? ‘That’s . . . very noble of you, Horst,’ I replied.

‘But . . . Bo. I am a ninety-three-year-old man. My days are severely numbered. Astrid is seventy-eight, and will live longer, but who knows. We have very little money, most of it gone on Felix’s education, and getting him out of the sticky situations in which he has found himself.’

‘Say no more, Horst. I will write a cheque . . .’

‘Thank you, but it is not your money I wish to ask you for.’

‘Then what is it, my friend?’ I heard Horst shifting down the line.

‘Your love. I know the joy that Maia has brought you over the last three years. There is a lightness in your voice, a song from deep within which I had not heard since our evenings playing music together in my cottage. With one child, I believe Astrid and I will just about manage. But with two, quite simply, we will not.’

My pulse had begun to quicken. ‘What are you asking, Horst?’

‘The little girl. Would you take the little girl?’

I sank back into the chair in shock. What was I supposed to say to such an enormous request? ‘I . . . Horst . . .’

He continued his plea. ‘I know it is more than any one man should ever ask of another. But in truth, I do not know what else to do, Bo. Martha is ill, and her daughter will not receive the love and care she deserves as long as her twin brother exists.’ Horst’s breath suddenly quickened, and he let out a sob. ‘There is no doubt in my mind that she will give the girl up for adoption. Astrid and I would gladly try to make up the shortfall, but we are aged and frail.’

We sat in an uncomfortable silence for a minute or so. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ I eventually managed.

‘No need to say anything now, Bo. Please take as much time as you require to give my proposal due consideration. I ask you because I know what a good man you are. Moreover, you are the only connection I have left to Pip and Karine. I know just how much they admired you, and how proud they would be if you would care for their grandchild.’ Horst sobbed again.

‘Those are very kind words, Horst.’ It was devastating to hear him so distressed.

‘For what it’s worth, we always regretted not giving Pip a sibling. I have no doubt it would make little Maia’s life even better if she had a little sister to play with.’

‘I will . . . certainly give it plenty of thought.’

‘Martha is due any day now. I will tell Astrid about everything once the children are born, and she will move into the cottage with us so that we may keep an eye on her.’ Horst gathered himself. ‘If . . . Astrid did not have to know about her granddaughter, that would be best. You know how kind she is. No doubt she would try to take on both, and I fear the consequences of that for all involved.’

I put the receiver down, poured myself a glass of Provençal rosé, and went to sit on the grass by the water’s edge. It was hard to take in the gravity of the request Horst had just made of me. My mind was flooded by images of Pip, Karine, Elle and me in Bergen, and the happiness which we experienced there. I remembered the way Elle had looked at little Felix, a yearning in her eyes to mirror the family unit which her best friend had built.

I had once sworn that I would do anything to repay the kindness of the Halvorsen family.

I looked up to the heavens. ‘Guide me, Pip. Tell me, Karine. Is this what you want?’

‘Pa, pa, pa, pa, pa!’ came a high-pitched squeal from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder to see Maia toddling towards me at speed, followed closely by a smiling Marina.

‘Hello, my darling daughter!’ I picked her up and held her in my arms. ‘Have you had a good day?’

‘Yes!’ replied Maia enthusiastically.

‘I can’t quite believe it, but she managed to read the first few lines of Madeline to me,’ said Ma, putting a hand on my shoulder.

‘Goodness gracious me. Perhaps we have a little scholar on our hands, Marina!’

‘Indeed, we might.’

I looked down at my daughter, who sat clapping in my lap. ‘Maia?’

‘Yeees,’ she replied.

I tipped her chin up to meet my eyes. ‘Would you like a little sister?’

I felt Marina’s hand drop from my shoulder, but Maia’s tiny face lit up. ‘A sister? For me?’

‘That’s right.’ I smiled. ‘Just for you.’ Maia looked up at Marina, and I followed her gaze. She stood quizzically above me, hand on her hip.

‘Will she live in Ma’s tummy?’

Her intelligence never failed to amaze me. ‘No, she won’t. She’ll arrive magically, from the stars. Just like you. Would you like that?’ Maia’s eyes grew wide and began to shine.

‘Can we read stories together?’ she asked.

‘Of course, my darling.’

‘Then yes please!’

I chuckled. ‘All right then. Ma and I will think about it.’

‘Yes, that’s right, Maia,’ Marina interjected hurriedly. ‘We will think about it. Come on, chérie. It is time for your bath.’

That night, I invited Georg to Atlantis, and he, Marina and I discussed the developing situation on the terrace.

‘I know you feel compelled to do this, Atlas, but are you certain you can take on the responsibility? A second adoption will surely mean even less time for trips to look for Elle,’ Georg pointed out.

I shook my head. ‘I doubt that our new arrival will impact that side of things any more so than caring for Maia already does. The real question is for you, Marina. Could you cope with another newborn?’

‘Atlas. You could give me one hundred babies to feed and care for and I would be happy. You know how much I love them, chéri.’ She raised a critical eyebrow. ‘Although next time, please talk to me before introducing such an idea to Maia.’

I held my hands up. ‘I apologise. I just had to know what her reaction was. If she had been anything but overwhelmingly positive, I would not be giving Horst’s request so much consideration.’

Ma nodded. ‘I understand.’ She cast her eyes out onto the quiet lake. ‘For what it’s worth, I think your friends would be eternally grateful to you,’ she said quietly.

The next morning, I called Horst to confirm that I would do what he had asked. He cried with appreciation. Later that day, he contacted me again to say that Martha had been overjoyed at the plan. I asked if I could meet her to confirm that for myself, but Horst advised me that it would be better for the baby if Martha did not know who I was, given her mental state. Three days later, I received word that Martha had given birth, and Marina and I took the jet to Bergen.

The little girl we took home to Atlantis was notable for the tuft of bright red hair which adorned her head. For the entire journey, I noticed her fists were clenched in steely determination of something. Of what, I am not entirely sure.

The sight of Maia peering over the cot to look at her new baby sister melted my heart, and confirmed that my decision had been the right one. She was so quiet and gentle in her approach.

‘Her name is Alcyone. After the star,’ I whispered.

‘Hello, Ally,’ said Maia, doing her best to pronounce her sister’s name.

‘Yes,’ I whispered. ‘Hello, Ally.’