Romy sat at the enormous dining-room table and tried to remember when it had been last used. Not since the gathering after Wilhelm’s funeral, she thought. She didn’t have much call for it; when Nina visited they ate their meals in the kitchen. Eugene Johns had called in to help her update her will. All the paperwork was lined up ready for her signature.

Eugene took a sip of his black tea and bit into a scone.

‘There’s another matter I wanted to discuss, Romy. Rather delicate.’

Romy sighed and folded her hands. She had a feeling she knew what he was about to say.

‘Alexandra has been in touch. She’s asking about paperwork for her mother, but I don’t have any records—only the death certificate. The official adoption certificate was issued in Australia, based on the landing permit. Was there any other documentation I’m not aware of?’

Romy forced herself to sip her tea as she closed her eyes and remembered that night in Hong Kong so many years ago. Dr Adler had placed a hand on her wrist. ‘Romy, I know you’re trying to get sponsored to go to Australia. The thing is, you can only enter if you are the relative of someone already there. Or someone with a business to assist you. The Australian government doesn’t want to accept Jewish refugees, let alone Chinese.’ He’d glanced around the ballroom, the floor now covered with more than a hundred mattresses. ‘But I have someone here who might be able to help with the paperwork.’

The notary adoption certificate was arranged by the kind Dr Adler and hastily issued and signed by a police officer in the middle of the night. She’d used that piece of paper to arrange a ticket and landing permit for Sophia Shu to travel with her to Australia. The doctor had managed to convince the kind, but overwhelmed, immigration officials and JDC representatives that baby Sophia was the orphan of a fellow doctor and should be permitted safe passage and a landing permit to Australia with her adoptive mother, Romy, and carer, Nina. The JDC also made contact with Wilhem Cohen in Australia and arranged for him to be Romy and Nina’s sponsor. This paperwork—and a hot, screaming baby—was just enough to eventually convince weary immigration officials to authorise Nina, Sophia and Romy a berth to Melbourne.

Romy opened her eyes. ‘I lost all the documents years ago, Eugene,’ she told the solicitor. ‘And we were never able to get replacements after the war.’ She scratched the inside of her wrist and glanced at the wall, willing her face not to colour.

‘Well—’ Mr Johns reached for a second scone ‘—I get the feeling Alexandra might be doing a bit of poking around in China. Perhaps you should have a word?’

Romy sipped her peppermint tea, her grief adding bitterness to the brew. She’d made so many missteps trying to protect the people she loved. All these years she’d tried to shelter Alexandra from trauma. To make a fresh new life in this country. But what if the shadow of sadness that had always seemed to cling to her granddaughter was tied to Romy’s past?