Daff had sat with the letter, hidden deep in her wardrobe, amidst all the other things in her life she could not find a place for, for several days. Though unsigned, the handwriting was as familiar to her as her own and though it had been a while since she had seen it, there was no mistaking it. First it left her winded, then confused and then bitterly angry. What on Earth was she supposed to do with this information? As she calmed down, she knew she ought to ignore it, to burn the letter and pretend it never happened. But...