‘Now it’s much more fun. Slightly surreal with all this abandoned baby malarkey, but definitely much more fun.’

‘Well, perhaps with my ex-detective skills, I might be able to help you find out a bit more about Larkins and the people in your photo. I may be retired, but I still have some tricks up my sleeve.’ Treasure laughed – a deep, mellow laugh that reverberated in his chest.

Billie poured herself more tea. ‘I tried good old Google, but I didn’t get very far.’

Treasure went up to the counter and asked if he could borrow Kip’s laptop. He brought it back to their table and started tapping away. After a couple of minutes, he turned the screen so that Billie could see it.

‘Google’s for amateurs,’ he teased, ‘but us professional sleuths have other options. This is a report in the local press from August 1973.’

The police were called to a disturbance at Larkins Holiday Park late on Saturday night and several arrests were made. There were some minor casualties and significant damage to property. The general manager, Mr Marty Mount, declined to comment.

Billie arrived back at Imelda’s to find her clip-clopping energetically around the kitchen in a new pair of shiny black tap shoes. Mabel was watching from the safety of her bed, an expression of complete bewilderment rumpling her face.

‘Oh, you’re back. Good. I wanted to talk to you.’ Imelda was a little out of breath from her exertions. She sat down. ‘Aren’t you going to ask about my tap shoes?’

Billie grinned. ‘Imelda, why on earth are you wearing tap shoes?’

‘Because Esther and I are joining a new tap dance class. There’s only one problem, and that’s what I was going to ask you about. The dance teacher needs a new pianist, and I was wondering if your friend Henry might oblige?’

Chapter 41

Chapter 41

1973

‘I want to know if my friend Janet is trying to get off with the same bloke as me.’

Imelda smiled with forced patience. She had done at least a dozen similar readings already that afternoon. It was the Saturday of the disco and Larkins was teeming with rowdy, over-excited and evidently very libidinous young singletons. Imelda was beginning to understand why Ruby was so concerned. The new guests appeared to be interested only in getting drunk and getting laid. Gangs of youths doused in cheap aftershave and trippy on testosterone were peacocking around the holiday park taunting and teasing gaggles of brazen young women, slick with fruit-flavoured lip gloss and frosted eyeshadow, who sashayed past them in clouds of Charlie perfume. Imelda spread the cards on the table and turned them over.

‘Does the boy in question have brown hair and brown eyes?’ she asked, pointing to the Page of Cups. Debbie nodded. ‘And Janet is fair with blue eyes?’

‘Yes. But she’s not a natural blonde,’ Debbie added cattily.