‘We had all these plans for when I retired. We were going to travel. We were going to see the world together . . .’

And for a moment he was back there: Gisele excited, with her arms full of glossy brochures from the travel agent’s in town. Him with his maps spread out over the very table they were sitting at.

‘Now she’s in a world that only she can see.’ He scratched his cheek, roughly brushing away the tears that threatened to fall. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me.’

He snapped back, mortified. Honestly – pouring his heart out like a silly old fool. What must Olivia think?

But if Olivia thought anything, she didn’t say a word. Instead she did the most remarkable thing. She put her cup down onto her saucer and reached across for his hand. And while Valentine’s instinct was to pull away, he let it be held by this kind-hearted young woman that he barely knew, who had come into his home bearing chocolate cake, and conversation and friendship. And who, for a brief while, had made him feel normal again.

‘Sometimes I just feel so lost,’ he said.

‘And that’s why Harry and I are here to find you,’ she replied.

Which made him smile, because really it was a lovely thing to say to a silly old fool like him, and that made her smile too. And this time Valentine noticed it reached her eyes.

Hey you,

It’s late. Sometime after midnight. I need to turn out the light and go to sleep, but I was thinking about you and dreaming about summer. Being here brings back so many memories of summer holidays and rocket-shaped ice lollies, and running around barefoot in bathing costumes from dawn to dusk. And that feeling of being carefree.

You know, sometimes it’s hard to remember that feeling. I think the last time I felt truly carefree must have been the summer I turned eight. Do you remember? That was the really hot year when the river nearly dried up and the tar on the telegraph poles melted. We would pick it off with our fingernails while we listened out for the chimes of the ice cream van. It was so hot Grandma refused to cook, so it was sandwiches and crisps for tea every day – and salad cream with everything. I remember we used to fight, but on this we were in agreement: it was like being in heaven.

Back then Granddad still worked for the council and every day he would return home at five thirty on the dot. I used to wait for him at the end of the lane and wave when he appeared. He drove a denim-blue Morris Minor with cream hubcaps and knitted covers on its seats, remember? That would be the car I’d later learn to drive in, and that you’d have your first kiss in, but for now it was just Granddad’s car. His pride and joy.