Was she going to remain alone like Charlie had been for the last fifty years? Maybe it was better that way. Maybe Charlie was perfectly happy. She could find a hobby. Take up knitting once the renovations were done, or crochet. She could get herself some cats. She didn’t particularly like cats, but that’s what lonely old women had, right?

‘Oi!’ A shout interrupted her tumbling thoughts. ‘What do you think you’re looking at?’

‘Just admiring the view.’

Charlie limped up the path from the cove towards her.

‘This time of night? Ain’t safe.’

‘No. I might run into an angry old hermit,’ she replied, feigning fear. ‘I want to clear my head. The beach seemed like a good spot for that.’

Charlie grunted.

‘Seems you thought so too.’ Nicole raised her eyebrow.

He grumbled as he opened the old wooden door to the boatshed.

Nicole tried to peek inside, but Charlie only opened the door just enough to squeeze through and shut it very quickly.

‘’Night,’ she called as she continued down to the beach.

Inside, Charlie had a good view from his northern window as Nicole paced up and down the sand quickly. What was she doing down there? Clearing her head, yeah right. He knew why people went down to beaches at night. But he didn’t want to relive old memories.

Charlie was relieved when she finally passed his boatshed an hour later as she headed back up the path towards the cottage. He wondered what someone so young could have weighing so heavily on their shoulders. Though, as he thought about it, he probably wasn’t much older than her when his life fell to pieces.

He only hoped she’d get the job done he’d brought her here to do.

Nicole walked into the unlit cottage and slipped her shoes off. She switched on the lamp in the living room, settled into the couch and pulled out Ivy’s next letter.

14th April, 1941

My Dearest Tom,

I have failed you.

Please forgive me. I was not strong enough to hold on to our precious little boy. Yes, my love, he was a boy. But I lost him. Dr Johnson tried to save him, but could not. There was so much blood.

I have spent the last few weeks in Woodville Hospital. They do not know what caused this. ‘Mother Nature’s way’, they said. Her way to what? I cannot help feeling as though my body was not enough for him. To want to stay, or to want to survive.

Father brought me home today. Mother had the nursery redecorated before my release. And I cannot find the spinning top you sent. Mother said it is better not to have reminders. That it will be easier to move forward as if it never happened.

But it did happen. How will you ever forgive me?

Please do. I ask this of you, knowing it is something I cannot do myself.