I was stolen AT BIRTH

As my sister Michelle and I stood in the playground, another schoolchild came up to us and told us we were ‘black-market babies’. At six years old, I didn’t understand what they meant. But now, decades on, I know that they were exactly right.

It was a little after that encounter at school in 1971 that our father Jim called Michelle, then 11, and I into the living room because he had something he wanted to tell us. While he fumbled over his words, our mum Joan stepped forward and made the announcement – we were adopted. Again, I was too young to fully understand, and apart from the fact we weren’t