Ned was in the corner of the frame, leaning against the railing of what Penny recognised as the deck that had been directly behind the family quarters of the hotel until about ten years ago, when it had rotted away beyond saving. In the picture, Ned, as always, appeared to be on the fringes of the party. He was wearing a blue collared polo shirt and a pair of khaki trousers – appropriate for an outdoor birthday party in late spring – the middle of May. However, it wasn’t so much what he was wearing or what he was doing that caught Penny’s attention, but the look on Ned’s face as he watched his wife and daughters.

Her dad looked content – happy. His face looked joyful, relaxed, pleased to be involved or at least partaking in the moment. Penny pulled the picture album closer to her face, trying to get a better look. Yes, he looked once again as if he was on the fringes of the family, but this picture though, said something different. It showed that Ned had definitely been a willing observer that day – and seemed to have enjoyed himself. Or at least revelled in the opportunity to witness his wife and daughters enjoying themselves.

Putting the album aside (she would take this to her cottage for safekeeping) she reached further into the drawer, to see if there were any other albums.

But instead she found something else. This particular drawer was much deeper than the rest and contained multiple leather-clad notebooks. All of the spines were neatly labelled with numbers: dates actually, though not month/year-specific like the hotel account ledgers. She already had those and had gone over them last night with Elle in preparation for this morning’s meeting. Penny picked up one of the notebooks and looking inside, was confronted by her mother’s familiar neat script.

Journals, she realised. She had been aware that her mother kept a diary of events on occasion, but understood now that perhaps this had been much more than a one-off type of activity. Judging by the number of books in the drawer, it had been a dedicated hobby, something that Anna must have done regularly throughout her life.

Scanning through the dates listed on the spine of each book, Penny discovered that her mother had diaries going back at least forty years and more, to even before she and Ned had been married and bought the hotel. Pulling out some of the small books, Penny now saw that her original estimate of how many in total had been way off, she was probably looking at a couple of dozen volumes.

‘You were busy, Mum,’ Penny smiled, feeling as if she had struck gold in a sense. She recalled a worry expressed to Elle days before that all her mother’s wonderful stories and vignettes about the hotel and family life were lost forever.