Jean nodded. It was no surprise to her that the dates confirmed what Mrs. Tilbury had told her. Only a fool would lie about something so easily verified.

“What about the nuns that were here at the same time as Gretchen? Are they still in this area?”

“They went back to Ireland when St. Cecilia’s was sold. To Galway, I believe.”

“That’s a pity,” said Jean, dismissing this line of inquiry.

“Campkin!” exclaimed Alice, still browsing through the entries. “That was the name. Martha Campkin. They were tremendous chums. They’d have chattered all through the night if we’d let them. It often happens with patients stuck on a ward together—especially when they’re suffering from the same complaint.”

Jean had only spent one week in her entire life in a hospital. She would have given all of her possessions for a friendly soul in the next bed.

“Gretchen never mentioned her,” she said. “And when I asked her husband if she kept in contact with any friends from that time, he said no.”

“Well, those friendships don’t always last on the outside,” said Alice. “Martha’s people came from Chatham, I believe. Whereas I think the Edels lived somewhere in London.”

“Wimbledon,” said Jean.

“People make such promises to keep in touch,” said Alice. “But they seldom do.” She sounded suddenly wistful. “The only one who still sends me a Christmas card is Brenda, but she lives in South Africa now.”

“Do you have her address?”

“I do. If you wanted to write to her care of me, I would be happy to post it on.”

“It sounds as though Martha Campkin might be worth talking to as well,” said Jean. “If I can find her.”

“Her father was a vicar, if that helps.”

“It might.”

“She wasn’t as compliant as Gretchen. A bit more spiky, if you know what I mean. But a nice enough girl,” she added loyally. “And very brave. Nothing we tried ever seemed to work for her.” She held out the little diary. “You can borrow it for as long as you need. But I’d be glad to have it back eventually. I don’t know why.”

“Of course.” Jean realized this was a cue to leave, only now noticing that Alice was looking weary. “I must let you get on. You’ve been so helpful.”

“I’ve enjoyed talking to you, Miss . . .”

“Swinney. Jean.”

“Perhaps you’ll come back sometime and tell me the outcome of your investigation. I don’t think we get the North Kent Echo out here.”

“I’d be glad to.”

“And do remember me to Gretchen,” Alice said as they reached the front door. “I was so fond of her. And Martha too, if you find her.”

After picking up her bicycle, which had fallen into the laurel hedge, and retying her headscarf, Jean turned for a last look up the path. In the front room, between the parted net curtains, Alice stood holding the shepherdess doll up to the window. Jean had a horrible feeling that if she waved goodbye Alice would make the doll wave back, and she couldn’t bear that, so she just smiled and quickly turned her back.