At first it had been tense. Frosty, monosyllabic conversation between Judith and Lana made the atmosphere unbearable. It was like they didn’t know each other any more. Catrin tried to navigate the choppy waters of disdain that kept her two best friends apart, but it was Huw who eventually broke the ice. Whether unwittingly or not, he came bounding into the room, singing at the top of his voice:

Catrin Kelly, Judith Harris, Lana Lloyd!

Fell into a muddy ditch and got annoyed

All their clothes they were a-smellin’

So they went back to Coed Celyn

Catrin Kelly, Judith Harris, Lana Lloyd!

And the three of them couldn’t help but laugh. Good old Dad, thought Cat.

After that, things got easier. Gareth wasn’t mentioned, other than Lana awkwardly asking Judith if he ever talked about her. Judith had to admit that no, he didn’t. And then they had to agree not to talk about him at all.

Desperate to get things back into shallow but benign territory, Catrin resorted to the one thing she knew would help. ‘OK,’ she said, producing a bridal magazine. ‘Who wants to see the dress I like?’

It was like waving a magic wand. They squealed with delight and excitement as the clock whizzed back a decade, transforming three sensitive young women into eight-year-old princesses again. And Catrin felt that things might finally be returning to normal.

26

Judith

‘Why don’t you come with me?’ she asked. ‘Get a bit of sunshine on your old bones, bit of Cypriot vitamin D.’

Gareth laughed. ‘Hey, less of the old!’

‘You’re tempted though, Gareth, I can tell,’ said Judith as she packed her summer clothes into a rucksack.

‘Well yeah, who wouldn’t be? Your aunty’s cooking sounds immense.’

‘There’s more to Cyprus than lamb kebabs!’ she laughed.

In celebration of being promoted up one rung of a very tall ladder to the post of administrative officer, Judith was treating herself to a holiday. It was thrilling – the thought of seeing her dad again, along with her recently discovered family, whilst spending seven days in the sun. Her flight was at three o’clock and George was due to meet her at Nicosia airport that evening. He’d been living back in Kakopetria now for nearly six months and, according to his letters, it was like he’d never been away.

After their Christmas reunion, Judith had persuaded him – no, commanded him – to return to Cyprus and pick up his life from where he’d left it in 1973. ‘You owe it to yourself, Dad,’ she’d said to him gently. ‘And to Sofia and to me – to all of us!’

He’d been welcomed home – predictably – with very open arms, found work at the local government offices and settled back into Cypriot life with astonishing speed. He’d even been reconciled with his former sweetheart, Cleoniki, though this had taken time. She’d never married. Too hurt and humiliated by George’s abandonment to risk it happening again, she had made the decision to stay single for the rest of her life. George had been determined to change her mind and didn’t give up trying until finally he succeeded, though it came at a price: Cleo’s brother refused to forgive him and frequently threatened to hit him. ‘I think we just have to be patient,’ George had said in one of his letters to Judith. But apart from that, life in Cyprus was good, and George wanted more than anything to share it with his beloved stepdaughter.