‘Thank you.’ He put the tomato down and turned back to the sink.

She stared at his back, managing to close her open mouth and swallow the reply she wasn’t invited to give. The conversation was over. That was fine. At least she’d apologised and openly owned her wrongdoing. He had accepted it . . . not graciously, but he had. That was what mattered.

Now to move on and attend to dinner. This she could do. Her shoulders fell as she took the pot off of the heat and placed the lid on top. It would stay warm and be the perfect temperature for eating shortly. She gazed around, not sure what to do with Alex occupying the sink and in control of the veg. She was lost but maybe she had always been. Now she needed to find her way home.

16

Diana

3 August 1962, 7.45 p.m.

As her father popped his head through the door, Diana put down her book, To Kill a Mockingbird and slid it under the blanket.

‘How are you, my darling one?’ he asked, coming to sit on her bed. He was so handsome in his dinner jacket. She thought he looked handsome all the time, but tonight he had twinkling eyes. ‘Did you have a good day?’

She smiled and nodded but decided not to say it would have been better if it had just been the two of them. He would make a face and might become cross. He’d been cross a lot lately.

‘I’m pleased.’ He brushed her hair off her face and put his hand on the book moving it into sight. He squinted at it. ‘Are you enjoying the story?’

‘Yes.’ Looking at it, she frowned.

‘It’s rather serious, isn’t it?’

Nodding, she said, ‘But I am serious, Daddy, and many things in the world aren’t right.’

He put a hand over hers and stroked it. ‘And this worries you?’

She bit her lip, thinking. ‘I can’t do anything right now because I am too little, but one day I want to make a difference.’ Crossing her arms against her chest, she sat straighter.

He smiled. ‘Then I know you will.’

‘I think, like Uncle Tom said, I will try and make a difference with words.’

‘Did he say that?’

‘He said I was good with words.’

‘Uncle Tom likes words.’ He looked out the window and frowned.

She could hear the rain hitting the window. Was he cross about the rain?

‘But enough about Uncle Tom. Are you ready for a day’s sailing tomorrow?’

‘Of course. How many people will be with us?’

He laughed. ‘That is a good question and the success of tonight will tell me how many we will have tomorrow.’

‘It will be a success. Mummy always has successes.’

‘That she does, my little one. Your mother is the best hostess ever and very clever to boot.’

‘Are hostesses not clever?’ She wrinkled her nose. Most of the ladies she knew were hostesses. Were they not clever? She didn’t like that idea.