‘No,’ I said. ‘Promise me you will somehow make right your wrong. For whatever reason, you and I have been given this second chance together. Do not waste it. Do not get to the end of your life and look back and not see any good.’

He nodded.

I have returned home this afternoon to shower and will head back to the boatshed once I have finished this letter. I believe he will be okay, but I must make sure.

Oh, my love, what will happen if he succumbs again?

Time is creeping by. Today and what is left of mine. Time. There it is again.

I will leave you here, my darling, and check on Charlie.

Take care, my sweet. Till we see each other again.

Forever yours,

Ivy

A chill tingled up Nicole’s spine. She had sat in the same chair Ivy had and kept watch over Charlie.

Thunder boomed across the peninsula and lightning burst across the darkening sky. As a morning storm rolled in, an almighty crack shook the cottage and heavy rain began to fall.

Nicole put Charlie’s letter on the mantle inside and lit a fire the way Danny had shown her. The weather app on the phone suggested the storm would clear later in the day. She could go back and check on Charlie then.

Snuggled on the sofa in front of the fire, Nicole opened Ivy’s next letter.

3rd July, 1974

Thomas Wilson,

I do not know why you never told me. Were you worried how I would react?

I have been visiting Joan every week for the last month as her health failed drastically. Cancer, the doctor said. She has had few visitors – hardly surprising. In Peggy’s absence I felt someone ought to be there for her.

We were all expecting her to pass weeks ago, but the stubborn woman hung on. Not surprising, I suppose. That woman would have no qualms telling God Himself off if she did not agree with his plans to take her. When I arrived this morning she lay in her bed, gaunt as always, more grey than usual. She had a photo clutched to her chest.

It was a photo of you. You and Joan together. She did not want me to see it, but I had to give her her medicine and she was too weak to stop me.

I recognised your suit. It was the one you were wearing the night we met, the night of the Spring Dance. I also recognised Joan’s dress. Did you go to the dance that night with her?

Nicole opened her Ivy folder and pulled out the newspaper clipping with the photo of the Spring Dance. Joan, Ivy, Thomas, their story now complete.

I asked Joan about the picture. She touched the photo and whispered something I could not quite make out, before succumbing to a coughing fit and falling out of consciousness.