When it came the woman had placed thin pieces of bread and butter on a plate and the kindness brought tears to Fleur’s eyes. She showered, washed out her underclothes and placed them in the sun over the window ledge. She climbed into the cool bed, the noise of the air-conditioner masking the sounds from outside, and lay on her back feeling dislocated.

The image of the small grave was etched clearly behind her eyelids. But so were other memories, stirred by the heat and smell and sounds she had almost forgotten. It seemed possible, to go back, to go back and start again and be more careful of the life she had had, the life she had lived out here in the heat and the dust and bustle of a foreign posting.

It was not that she had been unaware of her happiness then, it was that she had wanted too much. She had wanted perfection and there was no such thing, it did not exist. Human beings were flawed, you had to accept what you had, not try to improve it.

Why couldn’t you have had this wisdom when you were young, when you needed it?

David seemed suddenly near her in the room, as if he too had been conjured here by the possibility of finding their lost child. She could see his face, clearer than for years, young, still young of course. It was difficult to age while the memory of David remained young and vital. She turned over on her side, heavy with exhaustion, and let the memory of their time together play across her brain until she fell into a troubled sleep.

Mersing, Malaya, 1968

In the Easter holidays Laura and Peter arranged a house party in Mersing for the Easter weekend. Ten friends rented three rest houses near the beach. They were a mixed group of young officers and teachers and a couple of older friends of Peter and Laura’s.

The plan was to catch one of the small boats across to the island of Palau Tioman, take a picnic and spend Easter Sunday swimming and diving down to the acres of coral that lay beneath one of the most beautiful islands in the world.

The boats chugged across the aquamarine water full of noisy singing people and diving gear. The boatmen deposited them in the shallow translucent water and waited while they waded back and forth to the beach carrying their picnics and diving equipment. Then the boats turned and disappeared to the horizon to fish and sleep and wait for evening.

Diving canisters, barbecues and drink were held aloft out of the water and lugged ashore, and the parties broke up roughly into age groups and spread around the small curved beach under the shade of palm trees.

Peter and Laura were conscious of days like these drawing to a close. They wanted to make the most of the time they had left because they had been posted to Aldershot and it was still a shock.