Document by document, she unwound the death they had built for her, until the state agreed, officially, on paper, that Sidonie Norwood existed.

She had known it all along, in a shed, in the dark.

Now the world’s records knew it too.

The reunion of mother and son was not a movie.

It was managed carefully, by people who knew that a six-year-old cannot be handed a stranger and told to love her.

The first afternoon, Percy stood in the living-room doorway and looked at Sidonie with open uncertainty.