‘Sarah. Her name’s Sarah.’

‘You want the best for her, don’t you?’ said Dorothy again. ‘And for Johnny too.’

‘Yes, but . . .’

‘We want the same thing. We want Johnny to come home. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?’

‘But . . .’

‘Sleep now. You’ll feel better later.’

Swiftly, Dorothy lifted the baby from Connie’s arms and left the room.

29

Marina

January 1992

Harry’s Hat Shop isn’t difficult to find. A scan of the Yellow Pages and there it is.

Outside, the walls and window frames are beautifully painted in a deep red, while the door is a glossy black. The windows are illuminated by spotlights and there is a tasteful display of hats on stands – women’s on the left side, men’s on the right.

Marina stands outside, looking through the polished glass. There are no customers inside, but she can see a young woman sitting at the counter, reading. She hesitates for a moment and then pushes open the door and steps inside.

There is a delicate smell of lavender. The shop gleams. The walls are red here too and there’s a red patterned rug on the dark wood floor. The woman at the counter is in her late teens perhaps, with sandy-coloured hair that’s cut short and tucked behind her ears. Her face is small, her skin has a smattering of freckles. She gives Marina a brief smile and an equally quick hello and, when Marina indicates she’s happy to browse, is then immediately absorbed in her book.

The walls are lined with shelves that are in turn laden with hats, and several tables are artfully dotted about the room, each with their own display. The lighting is soft and well positioned. There are paintings on the walls – old-fashioned portraits, a London skyline – and a rectangular gilt-edged mirror with an intricate pattern.

Marina scans the array of bowler hats, flat caps, pork pies, stylish fedoras, bell-shaped cloches, elegant fascinators. There is every type of hat conceivable, each carefully arranged to show it to the best advantage. She pauses at one of the smaller tables to examine a chocolate brown pillbox with a bow and a tiny veil. Marina has no knowledge of the art of millinery but she can see that the hat is exquisitely stitched, the material expensive, the netting fine. While she is bending to admire it, a middle-aged man appears from the back of the shop, carrying a top hat. He bears a remarkable resemblance to the girl – same colouring and freckles, same slight build. They must be father and daughter. He stops short when he sees Marina as if somehow it’s a surprise to see a customer, then he smiles and greets her before continuing to the main table where he places the hat on a stand.