‘Yes.’ Her mother rose and rubbed her back. ‘It’s strange. Here I am trying to piece together my mother or maybe my childhood through things.’ She picked up a silk scarf and let it slip through her fingers. ‘I’m not sure how it will help, though.’ She turned towards her room. ‘Night.’

Lottie smiled. ‘Night, Mum. I’m just going to check on them.’

‘OK, get some sleep and . . . thanks.’ She smiled then disappeared around the corner of the hall.

Before she reached her grandparent’s room, Lottie could hear his storing. At least Gramps would be rested in the morning. As tired as she was, her brain was running around like a puppy chasing its tail. She wished her body had that energy.

She leaned on the balustrade. Would hot chocolate help? Her mind kept thinking of Gran’s words, her mother’s diary and Pat Treneer’s conviction that Allan hadn’t just fallen. She walked back to where Gran’s clothes were laid out. Turning on the nearby bathroom light, she went through the dresses and gowns on the floor. No sea-blue ones and none missing bows. Taking a deep breath, she checked the remaining garment bags. The first two were more silk and cotton shift dresses but the final one tucked in the far reaches of the closet was an evening gown she’d seen yesterday. Even in the dim light the silk shimmered like the sea.

Pulling it out, she carried the garment bag into the bathroom and closed the door. Laying it on the floor, she freed it from the bag. The zip was on the side and a thin band ran under the bust. She swallowed as she turned the dress around. There was no bow but maybe there had never been one. The light from the single bulb above was dim. She lifted the dress watching the colours of it shimmer. It was exactly as Jacob had described it to Pat. Gran must have been stunning in this.

She pulled the wooden chair from the corner of the room under the ceiling light. It groaned as she stood on it, clutching the dress. Beginning at the back she turned it over studying the band. If the bow had been on the back Allan could have grabbed it as he fell. But the were no threads or even needle marks. She slowed her breathing and moved her fingers around praying she wouldn’t see what she knew she would. At first, she thought it was all fine. No threads were visible but when she held the fabric up to her face there was a tear that had been carefully mended. Her heart sank.