London, Present Day

"Years went by and I really believed we were happy. Our parents seemed to have accepted that they wouldn't see us often and as long as we wrote occasionally, they didn't press too much."

My daughter is restless. She's fidgeting. It's as if she senses that we're coming to her part in the story.

"Four years?" she asks and I know she knows.

"Not quite. In the summer of 1992 we were happy. Gabriel was eight and in school. Even then it was clear he ...