‘It’s all coming back to me now. He arrived in the early afternoon on Saturday.’ She cut herself a slice. ‘From Penzance, I think. Something about a relative.’ She took a forkful of cake. ‘Yes, that explains why he always looked a bit familiar, but I could never place why.’

‘Oh.’ So, Gramps had lied. He wouldn’t have forgotten being here when Allan died. He and Gran must have decided that it would have upset her mother. That made sense.

‘It was all so awful.’ Mrs Hoskine stared off into the distance. ‘Everything changed.’

Lottie frowned. ‘How exactly?’

‘Well, renting out the house. Your mother going from the happiest little mite to the quietest and then your grandmother going back to work.’

‘What did Gran do at the time?’

‘She’d always had a knack for languages, so she went back to work for the Foreign Office.’ She sipped her tea. ‘I’d secretly hoped that she would find her way to Tom Martin.’

‘Oh.’ Lottie remembered the pictures Gran had showed her.

‘Tom Martin was a great friend to both your grandmother and to Mr Trewin. Lovely man. Never married.’ She smoothed down her skirt. ‘I always thought your grandmother and he would make a good match.’

‘Oh.’ Lottie put her fork down. ‘Is Mr Martin still around?’

‘Oh no, dear. He passed away a good few years ago. I went down to the funeral in St Martin church in the Meneage. Such a lovely man. Mr Trewin’s death shook him up badly.’

‘How did my grandmother react?”

‘Bless her, she kept her head, kept cool. Kept everything moving, handling everything. I thought she would crack but it’s not the way she was brought up. Poor thing hadn’t seen much of her parents. Those two were colder than fish in winter. Never once showed any warmth to her. But she wasn’t like that with Diana . . .’ she trailed off and picked up her cup.

‘But Mum and Gran don’t have a very good relationship.’

‘I know. I saw that when you were born. Made no sense but I hadn’t seen them in the years in between.’

‘Hello.’ Alex’s voice carried across the parched lawn. He stood in the kitchen doorway. ‘Shall I bring some more hot water?’

‘Yes.’ Mrs Hoskine beamed, watching him head back into the kitchen and Lottie wrenched her thoughts away from how the sunlight had caught the highlights in his hair.

‘He’s a good lad.’

‘Why isn’t he staying here with you?’ Lottie took a bite of the cake.

‘I can’t be doing with anyone under my feet, even my own grandson.’ She chuckled. ‘I’m just surprised no one has scooped him up yet.’ Her glance narrowed as she looked at her. ‘He was mighty keen on you once.’

Lottie swallowed. ‘It was mutual, but a long time ago.’

‘Time means nothing to love.’ She gave her a hard stare.