The booth looked lovely with all its seaside artefacts now artfully displayed. Treasure had persuaded Billie to make room for several boxes of classic vintage vinyl, a somewhat random addition to the stock and not exactly ‘on theme’ but Imelda was glad. It made good business sense. Treasure knew his stuff when it came to music and there was always a market for these records. They might help to bolster the takings and attract a few regular customers. Imelda straightened one of the boxes that Sparrow had sent flying and began flicking through the singles it contained. There were some from the 80s, but most were earlier. Barry White, T. Rex, Donna Summer, Wizzard – this music was a fast track that took Imelda straight back to her time at Larkins. Discos in the entertainment lounge, palm trees and pink flamingos. The glitter ball and one particular night that she had fought so hard, but failed, to forget. Imelda continued to browse through the records and there, right at the back in its original paper sleeve, was a musical memory so precious that Imelda hardly dare pick it up in case her imagination had somehow conjured it. ‘Spanish Eyes’ by Al Martino.

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Julia’s Columbus 1493 was a miniature work of art served in a copper pineapple glass. She and Annie had come to Brighton for the opening of the shop and were now drinking cocktails with their friend, the proprietor, in the Victoria Bar at The Grand where the three of them were staying overnight.

‘Cheers!’ Annie raised her more conventional glass. ‘May Billie’s Beside the Seaside be a roaring success!’

Julia set down her pineapple and took out her phone to photograph it.

‘God help us!’ Billie exclaimed. ‘Don’t tell me that you’ve become one of those people who post everything they eat and drink on Instagram!’ She knew that it was now a way of life for some people, but to her it seemed to be a way instead of life. No matter that your soufflé was sagging by the time you actually ate it, so long as its erstwhile perfection was photographically flaunted for the benefit of your followers.

Julia’s phone flashed and she returned it to her handbag. ‘Of course not. But it’s so beautiful I want to remember it, and if I have too many cocktails, I’ll be lucky if I remember my own name!’

‘Well, just try not to spill it like last time,’ Annie warned with a wry smile.

‘If Billie’s got any more shocking revelations, I’ll sit on my hands,’ Julia promised. ‘Have you?’ she asked Billie hopefully. Billie stirred her drink with a glass cocktail stick.

‘Well . . .’

‘I knew it!’ Julia tucked her hands under her thighs. ‘Come on, spill the beans!’

‘I’ve found someone who says he saw my birth mother leave me in the doorway at Imelda’s booth.’