I buried my eight-year-old daughter. Eight years later a new student walked into my classroom with her face, and when I finally called that girl’s parents in for a meeting, the door opened and my own husband was standing in it.

There was an affair. It began in 2008 and it ended, as a relationship, in about 2012, and [Rhoswen Brann] has been a person my husband has an arrangement with for sixteen years.

He has seen Etta twice a month for most of her life. There is a bank transfer that goes out on the eleventh. He has been at a school play. I have found a photograph of him at a swimming pool in 2017 and I have looked at it perhaps two hundred times.

That is enormous. It is also not what I cannot get past, and it took me about five months to work out which one was which.

What I cannot get past is twelve days in a hospital.

During those twelve days they asked us about family history over and over.

Different people, different departments, sometimes twice in a day by two people who had not spoken to each other. Both sides. Anybody with anything. Any other children.

I answered every single time. I gave them my grandmother’s heart and my brother’s kidney and a cousin I have met four times.

And so did [Gethin]. He sat in those chairs and he answered, in a calm voice, and he was very good at it, and three separate nurses told me afterwards how steady he had been.

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