Jess

There's obviously something fishy about the story.

So the story didn't ring true, but we couldn't quite work out why for ages.

I'm sitting round a table with my sisters.

We're drinking tea and going over a memory from when we were kids.

It's something we've been through so many times over the years.

You see, this is a story my family can never quite put to rest.

Maybe every family has one of these.

It's that thing that always comes up when you're together.

Someone mentions a name, a place or a particular memory and there you all go again.

The story gets told and retold, details are debated, bits get embellished, and over time, it becomes family folklore.

We talk about it over the years, and we're like, it's so weird, and we used to guess where it was on that road.

But the thing is, this isn't our story.

It belongs to someone else.

A baby girl who appears from nowhere on Tuesday the 6th of October, 1987, lying on a patch of damp grass beside a remote country lane in Suffolk.

The vest is white, sleeveless and much too big for her.

She's lying half-wrapped in a Sainsbury's supermarket bag, like a makeshift plastic cradle.

Late that morning, a passing driver spots the baby.

She's picked up, wrapped in a jumper and taken to hospital.

A small miracle.

For years, I've thought about that day and wondered about the baby and the mother who left her there.