Nicole could imagine Ivy running the CWA. It would have been a sight to behold. And the fights with Joan? She could see them clearly in her head. Her own mum had had a nemesis when she was on the Country Women’s Association, though Nicole had long forgotten the woman’s name. It would be somewhere in the minutes of the old meetings.

Minutes? Maybe … no, she couldn’t be so lucky.

At nine o’clock the next morning she grabbed her bag and ran out the door.

Danny was right. The local history section of the cove library was, indeed, impressive. Someone had scanned and digitised all the CWA minutes dating back to the 1920s. Many of the pages were hard to read, some impossible. But they were all there.

Nicole searched for the right dates. 1948. There was Ivy’s name. CWA President.

She made a copy of the minutes for the rest of that year.

What else had Ivy mentioned in the letter? Something about a dance. Maybe there was mention of that in the newspapers.

Nicole didn’t know which gods to thank, but the newspapers had all been digitally preserved, too.

‘The library’s going to close soon,’ Cheryl said, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. She’d have to come another day.

‘Cheryl, who copied all these documents? It must have taken forever.’

‘Volunteers from the local history society. We’re a small bunch, but dedicated. Would you be interested in joining us? We could always do with new members.’

Under other circumstances, she might have been tempted. For a town broadly aware of her living situation, they seemed to quickly forget how temporary it was.

‘I’ll think about it,’ she said, with a polite nod. There was no point making a big deal out of reminding people she wasn’t sticking around.

She quickly photocopied the newspaper clipping she’d found that mentioned a spring dance. There was a photo of a group of young men and women dressed in their best outfits, big smiles on their faces. She recognised Ivy, the smile the same as the woman in Mandy’s photos. Here she was looking at Ivy’s past. A happy past, it seemed. Unlike her own.

October, Last Year

For the next two weeks Mark was a model fiancé – coming home early, taking Nicky out to dinner, bringing her chocolates, listening with interest as she described the vignettes of her day.

That Saturday night they sat down to a feast of Indian curries that Mark had prepared. When they’d finished eating he presented her with a gift. A pair of diamond earrings that matched the bracelet he’d bought before. They were stunning.

And they left Nicky feeling cold.

‘What?’ He frowned. ‘You’re upset with me again? Seriously, Nicky. I just can’t win with you, can I? No matter what I do, you get upset with me.’

She raised her eyes to meet him.