She finished the email she’d been composing and hoped with all her heart Jane would respond. Mandy had put her up to it. Now that she was settled in Rosella Cove, was there anything else in her past she wanted to lay to rest? Nicole had told her about Jane last night over dinner.

‘Don’t text her, though.’ Mandy had encouraged her. ‘What if she’s changed her number? You did when you came here. Besides, texts are so impersonal and short. Maybe writing to her will give you both the space to say what needs to be said.’

The space to say what needs to be said. So much had happened to Nicole in the year and a half since she’d spoken with Jane. So much Jane didn’t know, even before they stopped speaking.

A plethora of alternative scenarios around their history had suddenly become apparent to Nicole. She didn’t know if reaching out like this would work, but she had to try.

She hit send on the email and hoped. Hoped Jane’s old email address was still in use. Hoped she would reply.

She pulled out her notes and research and sat them next to Ivy’s box. The information about Ivy’s parents she’d sourced from the university the past few weeks had been interesting. More than interesting. Ivy’s mother’s money was very old, aristocrat old, and when she’d married Ivy’s father it had caused quite a stir. Having James help her navigate the massive library archives had certainly proved fruitful.

On the shelf behind her sat the Scrabble box and Charlie’s copy of David Copperfield. The picture of Ivy dancing barefoot in the grass hung where it always had, watching over Nicole, inspiring her.

Danny’s latest letter from Bangladesh sat with the plane ticket he had sent her. In one week she’d be joining him.

She looked at the writing pad in front of her and picked up her favourite pen.

Chapter One

Ivy fidgeted with the pink bow in her hair. She hated bows. She hated pink too, but Mother had insisted she wear it. Top to toe. She pulled at her hair, wishing it could be free from its coiffed constraints. Her feet ached in the ridiculous heels Mother forced her to wear. Her bright, green eyes darted around the room.

The cute boy with the wavy brown locks and warm, dark eyes was looking at her again. The girl he’d arrived with, the one with black hair, was nowhere to be seen. She hoped he would ask her to dance before the girl returned, before Ivy tore the pink bow from her hair and caused a scene, before Mother forced her into the arms of the Fitzgerald lad, Hubert.