She lay on her back, and imagined herself floating on the flat, turquoise water of the Aegean. Under a cerulean sky, the dazzling sun warmed her to the bones and the softest breeze whispered over her skin.

A lone seagull flew overhead. From the distant shore, she could hear bouzouki music drifting towards her from a beach taverna. Delicious smells perfumed the air – succulent lamb chops roasting on charcoal, pungent garlic bread sprinkled with fresh oregano, toasted to the point of perfection. She imagined crispy Greek salad with fat, sweet olives and salty fetta. She always fell into a deep relaxed sleep long before pudding.

*

Morning broke with memories of that awful Christmas Day. Gordon returned from somewhere – the police station or the mortuary, she didn’t know – and ripped down all Mum’s lovely Christmas decorations. He stuffed them into the wood burner and set fire to them, all the time sobbing and shouting obscenities. Instead of opening presents, an endless stream of Mum’s friends and neighbours passed through and said how sorry they were.

Shelly snapped out of her recollections when her dad wandered into the kitchen wearing a bewildered expression. ‘I’ve lost me glasses.’

‘On your head.’ She turned and picked the phone up on its second ring. After a minute, she bid the caller goodbye and hung up. ‘Sorry, I have to go in early, Dad. A dog in collision with a car, poor thing, needs emergency surgery.’ She pulled the dresser drawer open and handed her father a box and a booklet. ‘Here, have a read of this while I’m out. If you get Alexa to understand your voice, you’ll find it useful while I’m away. It’s fun too. You can ask her absolutely anything you like.’

*

After dealing with the unfortunate dog, which was beyond surgery, Shelly returned to her car. Delving into her pocket for the key, her fingers touched the unopened letter. Before she turned on the ignition, she stole a moment for herself and tore it open. Her suspicions, aroused by the Cambridge postmark, were correct. It was from him, DJ. She had left DJ in Cambridge nearly twenty years ago, and had never seen him since. However, she’d never forgotten him, or stopped loving him.

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

GERTIE

Dover, 1916.

AFTER MY INDUCTION TRAINING, I had the dreaded interview before a selection committee. Two men and two women, all very stiff and even older than my father. That afternoon, I returned home to await the result. If they rejected me, at least my parents would be pleased.

I washed the dishes while Mother pegged out the bed linen, Tuesday was Mrs Cooper’s day off. The postman came through the gate. Mother abandoned the laundry, took the post, and came indoors.

‘This might be it, Gertie,’ she said, holding out a white envelope – her smile tight – her face pale.