She lifted the page, but the next was blank. The letter was still fixed to the pad. For a moment her heart sank, to think there might have been more, but then she realized how lucky she was, to’ve got the letter at all. He had never sent it, but after all it had found its way to her. If he’d posted the letter it would likely have ended up in the bin, whereas now it was fresh, as if Stephen was writing to her across the decades. He’d been the only person who’d called her ‘Nut’. At the time she’d protested against the nickname, but now the sight of it in his handwriting felt like a precious gift. He had been thinking of her, all the way over there in England. He hadn’t forgotten her.

There were still a few other odds and ends to sort through, in the box containing Stephen’s things, but they could wait. It wasn’t every day that a letter reached you, forty-odd years on. Hazel felt quite overwhelmed, both from the sight of her own childish letter to her brother and from the unexpected appearance of his reply to her. Once again, she wished Owen was there. But instead, she went through to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea and then lifted the telephone to call her sister.

‘You know what we ought to do?’ said Karen, after Hazel had told her about the letters.

‘No, what?’

‘We ought to plan a trip over there. Now you’ve done all this family research. We could visit the ancestral home, or whatever you’d call it. Do a bit of a tour.’

‘That’s a fantastic idea! Would you be able to take the time off, from the shop?’

‘Why not? Ginny could hold the fort for a couple of weeks. Three.’

Ginny was Karen’s adult daughter. She’d been raised without a father, her dad having disappeared to the other side of the country when she was still a toddler.

‘We could look up the cousins Stephen was friendly with, when he was there.’

‘Have you got addresses for them?’

‘No, but I could find them online, I’m pretty sure. Mind you, Clarke’s not exactly a rare name.’

‘Well, I could go pretty much any time, if I have a few weeks’ notice.’

‘Shall we aim for next year? What about April, after your birthday?’

‘Sure. Then we can have two springs in one year. That’d be pretty nice.’

After she’d replaced the receiver, Hazel sat still holding her empty cup. It had been a long while since she felt like this and it took her a moment to recognize the sensation. Then it dawned on her. For the first time since Owen died, Hazel found she was looking forward to something.

17.

2016