At eighty my stomach grew so large my family got frightened. The scan found something — and then a twelve-year-old record with my late husband’s name on it, and a folder called PROJECT AGNES.

And when I went back in, my husband was upset in a way I had not seen in fifty years of marriage.

He took my hand and said: “Aggie. If you ever have a question about what I did for work — the name is Evanthia Kastellis.”

And I thought it was an old man worrying about paperwork.

So in that office, eleven years later, I said that name out loud.

And Dov’s whole face changed.

“Mum. Did you just say Kastellis?”

“Yes. Why?”

He was staring at that folder on the desk.

“Because Dad worked with her.”

“Dov, your father sold insurance for forty years. What would he be doing with a medical researcher?”

And my son looked down at his own hands.

“Mum. There’s something I’ve never told you.”

“What?”

“After Dad died, I found a safe in the basement. Behind the shelving.”

I did not say anything.

“There were contracts in it. Research papers. Four or five medical files.”