Alex walked into the snug, holding her phone as if it was poisonous. ‘This has been ringing non-stop.’ As she took it, the screen flashed with a text.

Have located your husband Paul. All is not lost, he’s not in Thailand but Birmingham. Call me ASAP.

Lottie dared to glance at Alex. His expression was neutral, and he avoided her gaze.

‘So, he’s not your boyfriend but your husband.’ Alex’s voice was quiet, but Gramps heard him.

‘Lottie?’

‘I’m sorry, Gramps.’

He shook his head and sank into his chair. ‘Why didn’t you say?’

‘Why didn’t she say what?’ Her mother came into the room.

Lottie’s heart sank further but she pulled her shoulders back. ‘I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you all that I married Paul in Vegas in April.’

‘What?’ Her mother stopped walking in mid-step. ‘You’ve been married for months and you didn’t tell me?’

‘We were drunk, and it seemed a good idea at the time.’ Lottie looked at the floor. She’d known the next day that she’d made a huge mistake. Even now her stupidity made her stomach sour.

‘Oh Lottie.’ Her mother went to her just as Lottie’s phone rang again.

‘It’s the private investigator. I need to take this.’ With her head down, Lottie walked out the front. She should be happy. Paul had been found and if nothing else, it would make the divorce easier if not swifter.

85. Joan

85

Joan

5 August 1962, 4.00 p.m.

I sit watching Diana sleep with her arms still tight around Ben. Reaching out, I brush the hair from her face. My hands shake. They are the same hands that pushed her father to his death. My stomach turns. This game seemed so simple when it was going well. But now I have crossed a border. It isn’t a game and I have taken a father from my child. There will be no more happy moments watching him sit with her while she practises. No more bedtime stories. I close my eyes and wish it had been me who had gone over the cliff.

‘Mummy.’ Diana looks at me. ‘Mummy, please. Please don’t cry.’

I can’t stop the tears. Diana sits and throws her arms around me. I shake with the sobs that come from deep within.

‘Here, take Ben.’ She thrusts the old bear at me. ‘He’s held me like Daddy did.’

I cry out. My pain has no place to go as my daughter wraps her small arms around me and the bear. ‘Shush, Mummy, shush.’ She kisses my forehead. ‘I love you,’ she says as she tries to rock me like she was soothing a baby.

‘Daddy loved you.’

I suck in air.

‘He didn’t love Mr Venn.’

My hand flies to my mouth. No.

‘Daddy . . .’

I interrupt her. ‘Darling, you must never mention Mr Venn again.’

‘But Mummy—’