‘You’re right there,’ said Hazel. ‘Not a place I’d choose for my holiday.’

‘Me neither,’ said Dawn. ‘Strange to think me and Owen’s people originated here in Wales. I’m not feeling like I belong here.’

Caernarvon, though, was lovely. The darkness of the mountains gave way to a silvery marine light which washed across the little town. Their guest house was ablaze with hanging baskets: their rooms had loudly patterned carpets and colourful Welsh blankets on the beds. As soon as they’d dropped their cases they set out to explore on foot. Hazel was enchanted with the castle walls, the cobbles underfoot and the rows of pastel-painted houses. The Menai Straits seemed to glint at the bottom of every street and alleyway, sometimes greeny-gold, at other moments in a flash of unexpected blue. Hazel felt relieved that she liked the place so much. It would have been difficult to leave the medal somewhere less hospitable.

The VC had come to feel like more than a small piece of dull metal to her. She felt a kind of tenderness towards it, by now. She thought it would feel something like dropping your child off for their first day at school, to leave it behind. There would be a little bit of apprehension, but a sense of freedom, too.

‘Cass’s face,’ said Dawn, once they were sitting down for supper. ‘When her sister said you had her blessing. That was a picture.’

‘I didn’t want to look at her at that point. I could feel her glaring at me.’

Dawn sighed. ‘I guess, the trouble is, by the time you’re the age we all are, you know there isn’t going to be a magic bean. When you’re younger, you go around convinced that life will put one in your hand. That something amazing will happen and you’ll get rich quick.’

‘Like in Jack and the Beanstalk, do you mean?’ asked Hazel.

‘Yeah, like that. You know, you always half-think you’ll win a lottery, or find something worth a fortune at a garage sale. But life goes on, and we don’t. Our professional lives are behind us now and we didn’t get to be millionaires that way. And our parents have died and bequeathed us some stuff, and we’re grateful for that of course. But there’s no tiaras in the attic. No one’s going to get given that magic bean. Not now. I suppose Cass and Adam were banking on the medal being their magic bean. It’s got to be hard for them, to give up that dream.’

‘You’re right. That’s a good way of looking at it. That makes me feel more compassion for them,’ said Hazel. ‘Thank you, Dawn. And thank you for speaking out when you did.’

‘I don’t know where the words “young lady” came from,’ Dawn grinned.

‘Once a teacher …’ Hazel shrugged.