When their dad left, something inside Stephen snapped. Without a man around to keep him in check, and whenever their mum was out, he ruled the house any way he saw fit. Usually with his fists. Not that their father knew or cared. None of them had seen him since the day he left to set up home somewhere with the receptionist from the garage where he worked. They had a new family. Two kids, if Mum’s friends who still kept tabs on him were to be believed. Not that it mattered to Lou. Even before he had become a stranger to their family, the man who sat across the kitchen table had become a distant figure in her life. Dean couldn’t miss him either, as he’d never known him. But she’d never forgive him for what he did to Stephen. And Mum.

Lou’s phone buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket.

‘Got her!’ Will said.

‘What? Are you sure?’ She pushed down all thoughts of her father. He wasn’t worth the space in her brain.

‘Pretty sure,’ Will said. ‘Luckily for you, Goodwill is an unusual surname. There’s only one Elizabeth Goodwill listed in the register of births in London in 1927. She would have been twelve in 1940, so that puts her at the age you said. Her parents’ surnames are listed, and I found the records of their marriage in 1919 and their deaths in 1940. They’re recorded as fatalities in an air raid in Kensington. Does that sound about right?’

Lou pictured the mechanical birds bombing London. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that sounds right.’

‘Good. Well, not quite so good for them, but at least it means I’m barking up the right tree. After 1940, little Elizabeth’s trail goes rather cold, no doubt because she was safely ensconced for the duration in the Northamptonshire countryside. I picked her up again in 1948 when an Elizabeth Goodwill married a Montague Elderman. Handily another unusual surname. As far as I can see, they lived in London and had two children. Nothing again for a few decades, but I found a record of a death ten years ago of a Montague Elderman. But nothing like that on Elizabeth, so I think she must still be with us.’

‘Elizabeth’s alive?’

‘And living just a few miles away. When old Monty died, it seems Elizabeth upped sticks and moved to a village just down the road from here. I found her on the electoral role. Perhaps she moved here after husband died because she had happy memories of her time as an evacuee.’

Lou wedged the phone between her chin and shoulder and dug in her pocket for her pad and pencil. ‘Could I have her address?’

‘Whoa there, tiger,’ Will laughed. ‘You might want to order up some birth, marriage and death certificates before you go knocking on her door. It’s possible I might be barking up the wrong tree after all.’

‘Please, I’d like the address.’ Will had found the right tree; she could feel it.