And then there you were. I saw you through the crowds, holding the hand of the mysterious woman I would come to know as Daphne Hartall. You were smiling but had dried tear tracks on your cheeks.

I rushed over to you, almost snatching you away from the tall, thin woman and bending down to your level, hugging you to me, breathing in your familiar sweet smell. ‘Thank God, thank God, thank God.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ the woman said. Her voice was husky. ‘She looked lost so I said I’d help her find her mummy.’ I noticed she was clutching your polystyrene cup, the rim sticky with chocolate.

I stood up, holding on to your hand. Never wanting to let go of it again.

‘See?’ said a voice behind me. It was Melissa, her large bosoms rising up and down as she gasped for breath. ‘I knew . . .’ pant, pant ‘. . . she’d be fine.’

‘Thanks, Melissa. I’m sorry . . . for the overreaction.’

She nodded, her hand pressed to her chest, and said it was no problem and that she’d better get back to the café. But she threw me a strange look over her shoulder as she went. I knew what she was thinking – that I was an over-protective mother. Hysterical.

There were a few beats of awkward silence and then the woman said, ‘I’m Daphne.’

‘Rose. And this is Lolly.’

She smiled and it lit up her whole face, making her seem less severe, less angular. Now I was closer to her I could see the tips of her long eyelashes were blue. ‘Yes, she told me that. An unusual name.’

‘It’s Lorna. But she finds it hard to say. She called herself Lolly and it’s stuck. Well, thank you again.’ I hesitated, wondering if I should ask. ‘Are you new to the village?’

She nodded. ‘I’m staying in one of the rooms over the Stag and Pheasant. But I’m looking for lodgings. Something more permanent. At least for a while.’

I wondered if it was her who had enquired about my ad.

‘I might be able to help you there.’ I smiled at her. She smiled back shyly, flashing her small white teeth. This was serendipitous, I thought. We were supposed to meet.

How wrong I was.

12

Saffy