‘Oh no,’ Grace gasped, on realising that even right up to the very end Connie had been caring for Lara, wanting to do the best for her … it was just such a pity the same kindness and consideration had never been shown to Connie, firstly by her own mother and then by the universe, fate or whatever, towards the end. Because, if Lara had somehow received the letter, then maybe she would have come to England … maybe she would have been with her mother when she died. Then maybe Connie wouldn’t have been all alone and would have got her happy ending after all.

‘There is one other thing,’ Mr Conway said, standing up and rummaging inside his blazer. ‘The decorator chap found this too, just a moment before we left to come here this morning.’ He glanced at Lady Bee who leaned forward to see what it was. ‘Ah, here it is … not sure it will be of much use, though, as it’s dated November 1946.’

And he handed a postcard to Grace.

A picture of the breathtakingly beautiful Italian Riviera on the front and Connie’s handwriting on the back next to an address in Manhattan. Grace felt her pulse quicken as she held her breath.

‘I need to call Ellis,’ she said, her fingers shaking as she fished inside her jeans pocket to pull out her mobile.

He answered right away.

‘Hello, Grace … this is a nice surprise, or am I dreaming?’ he laughed, sounding sleepy, for it must be early morning in New York, she thought on glancing at the clock on the wall and swiftly counting back the hours in her head. But this was too important, as time could be running out for them to find Connie’s daughter.

‘No, you’re not dreaming … it’s really me, and I have some news.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes, that’s right. I know where you need to go to start the search for Lara. I have an address right here … on a postcard from Italy.’

EPILOGUE

Santa Margherita, Italy … Three months later