Her gaze flickered over the other pictures and came to rest on a silver-framed one at the very back. The photograph, sepia and faded with age, was of a young man in an old-fashioned uniform, standing very stiffly, his legs bound tightly knee to ankle. The jacket, buttoned up to his throat, looked tight and uncomfortable and in his eyes, staring straight at the camera, there was a strange look; not exactly fear, Ella decided, but certainly apprehension. He was not very tall, but stockily built and, though it was difficult to tell from the faded image, his hair looked to be dark and curling. Although the picture was obviously old, the young man’s face staring out at her reminded Ella of Rob.

Ella frowned thoughtfully. The picture was vaguely familiar but she couldn’t remember having looked at all Grandma Eland’s treasured photographs before and yet . . . Maybe as a child, she had seen them and forgotten. She was turning away, when the door opened and Rosie came in carrying a tray.

‘There now, I’ve brought you both a cup o’ tea and a slice of plum bread.’ Her glance took in the still-sleeping Grandma Eland. Setting the tray on a small table, she moved towards the old lady.

‘Don’t disturb her, Aunty Rosie,’ Ella said softly, but Rosie only laughed and said, ‘It’s high time she was awake anyway. It’s almost tea time.’

Ella watched as Rosie touched the old woman’s shoulder. ‘Come on, Grandma. Wakey-wakey. Ella’s come to see you.’

As Grandma Eland lifted her head and blinked, Ella thought again how much older she looked than her own grandmother and yet they must be about the same age. Beth Eland’s hair was almost completely white, long and pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her face was round and on her fat cheeks were little red veins. She gasped as she heaved herself upright, straightened her dentures and said, ‘Why, Ella love, how nice.’

‘I’ve brought you a cup o’ tea,’ Rosie said. ‘You can sit and have a nice little chat.’

‘I can’t stay long,’ Ella perched on the chair at the side of the fire again and began to pour out the tea, ‘I promised Gran, but I just wanted to ask you something.’

She looked across at the old woman. What had they both been like, Esther and Beth, when they’d been young girls? ‘I – I just wondered. Did you know my gran when she was young?’

The smile on the round face before her faded; the open, loving look in the dark eyes became wary. Beth’s hands, lying in her lap, became suddenly agitated, the fingers twisting together. ‘Why – why do you want to know?’ Her voice was only a whisper.

Ella shrugged. ‘There’s something funny. Some sort of – of – mystery.’