There's a child at my door. I've never seen him before. He says he's my grandson, but that's impossible... how much of my life is a lie? What else don't I know?I've lived on this quiet street for years, in the same house I once shared with my husband and our beloved daughter, Chloe. Now they're both gone and my home, that used to be filled with laughter, is too quiet, too still.When a little boy I don't recognise knocks at my door, without a parent in sight, I'm shocked. He trembles with nerves, and I tell him I can help find his mother. But I'm not prepared for what he says next. I'm left frozen, heart pounding in my chest.'My mummy's called Chloe. You're my grandma.'My blood runs cold. It can't be true. The curly-haired boy looking up at me is no older than five and my daughter died fifteen years ago. Didn't she?If she's alive, then what really happened on the day I lost my daughter? And where is she now?