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Wrapped in a pink fluffy woollen blanket, a baby is buried without ceremony, in a cemetery at the dead of night.
One of a series of revelations that only became known to me in later life and started to unravel the cosy family history I had always imagined for myself. The assumptions, the omissions, the contradictions, the little white lies; the more I discovered, the more questions it posed. Why hadn''t the family secrets been shared with me?
On a hot summer''s day, a pleasant walk, a chance meeting and a bombshell dropped. ''You know who that was, don''t you?'' my brother said. No. I didn''t.
