My parents threw me out at sixteen after I lost my leg. Nineteen years later they wanted a million dollars for my sister — to hide why a 24 -year-old woman may never walk again.

And the surgical window is gone. A cheque does not buy a year back. Anybody who has ever needed something at a particular time knows that.

We talked for about two hours, mostly about other things. She is funny. She is much funnier than I am.

And at the end, at the door, she asked me one question.

She did not ask for anything. She did not ask why it happened, or what my sister was like, or whether I was sorry, which I had prepared for.

She said: did you know it had your name on it?

And I said: yes.

She thought about that for a moment.

And she said: okay.

Then she said goodbye, and I walked to my car.

I have been asked since, by somebody who cares about me, why I did not explain. The lawyer. The press. The reasons. All of which were good.