They told Jo that they didn’t want Elodie to have any more upheaval in her young life and now that she was so settled, they were more than content to stay living with Jo, for as long as she would have them. It took Jo less than a millisecond to agree. Having them living with her had saved her, in more ways than one.

She picked her way through numerous boxes, distracted by old photos, long-forgotten cards and the children’s childhood certificates and trophies, smiling as her memories tumbled over one another. There was a photo of Emma on the swing in the garden of their first home, Rose Cottage, in Surrey, where they had been so happy, before moving to Suffolk. Family holidays on sun-kissed Greek islands and in the pouring rain on Cornish beaches were all caught in a freeze-frame of time on these now-yellowing cardboard squares. Peter smiled out at her, his sleepy brown eyes still having the power to make her feel weak, even from the distance of so many years. She would never stop missing him.

Finally, Jo found the box she was looking for and the bank documents she needed were right at the top. It really was the last thing he did before he died, she thought sadly, as she removed the documents and placed the box back on the floor, wondering why Peter had kept all this up in the loft, rather than in his office downstairs.

She stood up and sighed, thinking that the next time anyone would be up here would probably be after she was dead. She shuddered at the thought, imagining Charlotte and Ben clearing it all out, maybe when they were old themselves.

She was just about to turn around and make her way back to the loft hatch, when a white envelope that had been underneath the financial documents she had just removed caught her eye. It stood out because it was newer than the other documents in the box and therefore a brighter shade of white. On the front was written one word in Peter’s handwriting: Elodie.

Jo frowned to herself, wondering why he would have hidden something that was meant for Elodie, up here? Maybe he had intended to give it to her, but never got the chance?

Jo lifted the flap and removed the folded piece of paper within. She gently unfolded it and read the handwritten note:

To my dear daughter

You will never read this letter but I needed to write it all the same.

I am so sorry for everything. If I could turn back time and change the past, I would. But the one thing I would never want to change is you. I’m sure your mother will have told you things about me and I will admit that some of them, to my shame, are true.

But, whatever she may have told you, I promise that from the moment you were born, I loved you. I know that you will grow up into a lovely young woman. I’m certain that you will be as beautiful as your mother – maybe even more so. I hope you will be a good person and that one day you will be able to find it in your heart to forgive me and understand that every single one of us is flawed and anything I did, I did out of a father’s love for his child.