‘Lots.’ Tess continues to check for dates. ‘It looks as though there’s one for every year from 1911 to 1964, right the way through without a gap. You know, I bet an archivist would love to get their hands on these. Social history on the kitchen table.’

‘1964 is the year Annie died. Is there anything else in the box?’

‘Two envelopes. They were underneath all the bundles. Letters, maybe?’

‘Open them up, then. Tell me what they say.’

‘You wouldn’t rather read them yourself?’

Georgia shook her head. ‘My eyes are tired. You read for me.’

The paper of the first letter is thin, creased into thirds and then thirds again. The folds are worn, as though it has been folded and unfolded many times, and the edges of the paper are uneven with age and handling.

Tess carries it over to the window to get a better light, and begins to read what was once black ink, and is now faded to brown.

Dear Ann,

I cannot tell you how sorry you have made both Father and one that you have been so naughty as to merit such a punishment. Perhaps it will make you feel it more and resolve to be more obedient when you think how very disappointed I am. Finlay was looking forward to you coming home on Saturday with such joy and now you must stay at school and it is all ruined.

You see the punishment does not fall on you only, it comes on us as well. You will have made your teacher sorry too. No one likes to punish but you make it necessary by your bad behaviour. Your grandmother is coming on Saturday and we are going to have strawberries and cream but you have spoiled all the pleasure for us.

Think, and pray that God will help you overcome your perverse spirit. I hope that next time I hear about you it will be more agreeable news.

You really are an impossible child. I am surprised we are related at all.

Mother

‘“Father and one”?’ queries Tess. ‘It’s so formal.’

‘It’s how people wrote in those days, I suppose.’ Georgia feels for Hazel’s brass ring on her finger. ‘This is about Annie. She lived in this house from when she was ten years old, and never left it. It was Annie who first took in the lodgers.’ Georgia looks across at the garden. ‘I remember planting fruit bushes with her, but she absolutely refused to grow any strawberries. Wouldn’t touch the things.’ She spins the inner ring around its groove. ‘What’s the date on it?’

‘Not sure. Oh, wait a minute, there’s something on the back. “Mother’s letter, June 1906.”’