Gordon, who was sitting next to Shelly, grabbed her fist and squeezed tight. ‘We’re all right proud of yer, DJ, lad. Me included. An’ I’m right sure yer dad is too. How could he not be?’ His eyes met Shelly’s in an emotionally charged moment.

DJ took Lilly’s hand. For a second, they gazed at each other and then returned their attention to the meal. In an instant, Shelly knew their first boy-child was destined to be named Dave. She smiled, filled with joy as she realised they would one day make her a grandmother. Could she live up to the standard that Gran Gertie had set? She would try. DJ’s child, just the thought was overwhelming. A voice from the past echoed in her mind.

I come from a long line of Davids.

*

At ten o’clock the next morning, Shelly checked out of her hotel room. She had deliberately hung back to avoid the others. Deception did not come easily to her.

She had hardly slept, yet as dawn broke, she came to a decision that had eluded her for so long. Was she doing the right thing? She hoped so. The choice had been difficult to make, but she had to consider other people’s lives. She was doing the right thing, she was sure now. This decision, the terrific burden of holding someone else’s future in her hand had pressed heavily on her recently, especially since DJ had come into her life. However, after seeing her son with the young woman he loved, and after hearing the poignant words of Gran Gertie’s first tape, Shelly knew her decision was correct.

DJ and Lilly should not be burdened with the past, and any parent who loved their child wouldn’t want him overwhelmed by things he couldn’t change.

*

After putting her father on the coach at Dartford, she headed towards Epping Forest. By the time she entered the rich woodland area, relief replaced those last niggling doubts. She had to stop the car, and let her tears go. In her mind, she spoke to Gertie, and to David, and then to her mother. With an overwhelming sense of relief, she confirmed she was doing the right thing.

Twenty minutes later, she pulled up in the drive of a majestic Victorian building. Grabbing her handbag, she got out and from the car boot, she lifted a white M&S bag that contained a complete new outfit. Bright, happy, casual clothes, although this regular occasion always broke her into little pieces. The gravel crunched as she walked away from the car.

Simon, her long-time friend and owner of Dover Divers, was reading his newspaper in the porch. He stood, took her into his arms and kissed her cheeks.

‘How are you?’ he asked softly.

She nodded. ‘You know how it is, a bit emotional. DJ has just finished his first year at university. I so wish . . .’