“Only her Foreign Office record. And they wouldn’t let me take it, only look at it. There wasn’t much in it. Personal information I already knew, an old letter of commendation for her work, and a letter of formal reprimand that she had deserted her post prior to the bombing. Which is utter rubbish.” He sounded angry. “That job meant everything to her.”

“What about the people she worked with?” Gabriel asked. “Surely, if—”

“I looked. But I couldn’t find a single soul who had worked with her in Poland. Or anyone who knew her at all. PRESUMED DEAD had been stamped across the front of her folder in red ink.” He smoothed the blanket over his knees. “Smudged, like someone had been in a hurry. A hurried conclusion because any other explanation was too much of an inconvenience. I hated that red ink. I still hate red ink.” He sighed, a wheezing, tremulous breath. “And I still hate that word. Presumed. Because presumed still allowed me to hope that she wasn’t really dead, just gone. But over time, gone becomes far worse than dead.”

Lia pushed the folder that was still in Gabriel’s hands closed. “I’m sorry.”

“Eventually, as the years passed, I was forced to accept the truth. If she had been alive, she would have found her way back.” William slid his glasses off again. He dabbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “I should not be maudlin so many decades later. If I were to be completely honest, my imaginary angel pulled me out of the doldrums. Gave me a purpose, even though it was futile.”

Somewhere in the house a bell rang, pretty, chiming notes.

“Saved by the bell,” William joked weakly.

Lia looked questioningly at Gabriel.

“The lunch bell,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure that, too, has been here since 1859.”

Lia’s lips curled. She crouched down beside him.

“Thank you, Mr. Seymour,” she said. “For sharing your memories.” She gathered the photos that still lay on his lap.

William only nodded. He settled his glasses back on his nose, just as Abigail bustled into the room.

“Lunch,” she announced, her keen eyes travelling amongst the three of them as if trying to discern what had been spoken of.

“Sounds wonderful,” Gabriel said.

“Hmph.” Abigail moved behind the wheelchair and deftly wheeled William toward the door. She glanced back. “Hurry up, you two.”

Gabriel waited until Abigail and his grandfather were gone before he turned to Lia. “Why didn’t you want me to show him the rest?”

“Because there was no point. Clearly, he knew nothing about the photos or how they might have ended up in Grandmère’s apartment. By his own admission, it took him years to accept her death. Why upset him all over again with more questions we don’t yet have answers to?”