‘No, not a word – but wait, I haven’t finished tellin’ yer. Gertie nabbed the waiter and said, “Young man! Forget the tea. Bring me a double gin!” with no notion of foreign measures. When the Greek waiter, who seemed to be rather fond of her, asked, “What would you like in your drink, madam: orange, lime or tonic?” Gertie would say, “I’m partial to a splash of lime, but that would be fresh lime, young man, like we had on the Britannic, not that cheap cordial they serve in the bar, thank you.” He would make a little salute, then bow, which cheered her up a lot. He’d go to a tree in the street and pluck a lime especially for her.’

‘The Britannic? Never heard of it. What is it, an island?’

His head came up with a slightly surprised look. ‘No, it was the largest hospital ship in the world, ever.’

‘A hospital ship? You’ve lost me. Was she taken ill abroad or something?’

‘No, she was a nurse in the First World War. Anyway, Gertie always refused to talk about where she’d been on those afternoons, but she repeated the same routine every day.’

‘I don’t remember any of that, but I was very young. What a mystery. I wonder where she went.’

‘So did we. When I offered to follow her, your mother insisted we respect her privacy. Every morning she’d come to the breakfast table, take aspirin, drink strong black coffee, and squint murderously at us all, but she never divulged where she’d been.’

‘How would she even know where to go?’

‘Well, she’d spent time in Syros before. During the war.’

‘Gran Gertie was a nurse, on a ship, in the First World War? Well, you live and learn. I’m quite shocked that I didn’t know.’

‘Why should you know? Most people don’t know what their grandparents did, never mind their great-grandparents.’

‘That’s fascinating, don’t you think? I’d love to go back to Syros, wouldn’t you, Dad? Will you come with me – please?’

He sniffed hard. ‘I’m not up to it, Shelly. Not without your mum. It’s no good hoping. You go, love. Have a smashing time, you deserve it. You don’t want a miserable old beggar like me tagging along. Besides, I can’t leave me birds,’ he said, bringing her back to Dover and his precious pigeons on a miserable Monday morning.

‘I see . . . never mind. I might not go. It was just an idea. A silly whim.’ No point in making him feel bad if he didn’t feel up to it, she thought. Nevertheless, she tried one last time. ‘It’s just . . . well, the brochure looked amazing after all the rain we’ve had.’ Her eyes flicked up to his face. The silence stretched out and the room closed in. Shelly had to get away before she suffocated.

*