‘Yes, and the roof began leaking we had so much rain.’

She chuckled. ‘Gosh, I can still remember the hangover.’

I nod. The rain had stopped by two, the sky had cleared, and I’d ignored the roof, dancing as if my life had depended on it.

‘Well on the way to this year’s hangover.’ She raises her glass. ‘These are lethal but so delicious.’

‘That’s the point.’ I hold up my empty glass. ‘I seem to be in the need of a refill.’

‘Me too.’ We walk towards the house. ‘We never learn, do we.’

I shake my head, but wonder are we destined to repeat the same mistakes, or does that only apply to alcohol? My mother had used drink to numb her life. Was that because it had been in her control or was she just a victim? I didn’t want her to be a victim, but the other option wasn’t any better. I, however, am in control of my life and as I hear the gong sound, I am reminded I am in charge of this evening and nothing is going to ruin it, not even the thought of a hangover tomorrow morning.

53. Diana

53

Diana

4 August 1962, 6.30 p.m.

Everyone except Mrs Hoskine and Mary, the daily help, were out in the garden. Diana had checked before she entered the kitchen to take a picture of the cake. It would go on the cover of the book she was making for Daddy. She pressed the shutter, flicked the switch at the front, then one on the back and pulled the sheet out. Her glance kept darting to the clock, watching the second hand until she could open the back and see if the picture had come out well. Flapping it as she’d seen Mr Venn do, she then took a close look. It was a success.

Mrs Hoskine handed Mary a plate of food to take outside. It had prawns in it and Diana hated them. They felt funny in her mouth. When Mrs Hoskine checked the oven, Diana grabbed a piece of bread and her picture of the cake.

Once up in her room she placed the photo on top of the chest of drawers and searched for paper and glue she’d brought up from the office in preparation. She carefully folded the unlined sheet in half and centred the photo on it before applying glue. While that set, she peered out of her window. Gribben Head baked in the sun. Below, everyone looked beautiful – especially Mummy. Diana picked up her camera and leaned out the window and took a picture then went through the steps until she could take out the photo. With a quick glance to be sure it had worked, she left it by the first one then dashed back down the stairs. She would have to take the pictures quickly so that she could give the book to Daddy today as a surprise.