The flattened letters that had once been in the duffel bag she opened out. Some of them were from their mum, addressed to Stephen Nolan, Stony Hill Farm, Nr Truro, Cornwall, UK. She began to read through them, her heart in her mouth. But the familiarity of the things their mother wrote about brought a warm glow of memory, for all the nostalgia they evoked. She found herself recalling some of the prosaic details of their home: the colour of the kitchen Formica, the bathroom tiles. They’d had a little fishtank, for a time, with a tiny stone grotto; she and Karen had fought to feed the fish. She hadn’t thought of this for years. Among the letters was an envelope that was fatter than the rest and this she kept until last, thinking it would contain a longer letter. Instead there were two pieces of paper folded within their mother’s usual breezy summary of family news. She opened them out and saw that they were notes from her and her sister. ‘Hi Stephen, we waved you goodbye, did you look down and see us?’ Hazel had no memory of writing this, yet here it was. She felt tears gather, to be reminded how much she’d loved her big brother and missed him, even then. It sometimes seemed as if she’d spent her whole life missing him, or trying not to.

Hazel wished that Owen was here so that she would have someone to show it to. She put the letter and her little sister’s back into their envelope and picked up the notepad. She flicked it open, expecting to find only blank pages. But there was handwriting on the first page. Stephen’s handwriting.

Dear Nut,

Sorry this is so tardy (as Mum would say), I keep meaning to sit down and write to you, but a lot has been going on. I was with our cousins down on their farm in Cornwall, it is an amazing place. They swim in the river (no snakes!), it’s icy cold. Maybe I’ll take you there one day when you’re older. At the moment I’m in London, going to see some sights for a few days before heading back to the Clarkes I hope. They have horrible soup here in England if you go into a pub for a bite of lunch, it’s a bit like gravy, but with bits in, you would HATE it. The lollies are nice though, especially one called a Mivvi, which is strawberry on the outside. Tell Mum I