Ziva sat and thought about that for such a long time, I began to think she was deliberately ignoring me. Then she shook her head as if coming back to the present, and rested her chin in both hands.

‘It was a very difficult time for our family. When John, Becky’s dad, lost his father, it was heart-breaking. His mother never recovered. They were so angry, and so very sad. And some of his best friends – the boys he’d grown up with, worked in the mine with for decades – they didn’t even come to his funeral. They’ve all passed on now, of course. And their children, grandchildren – should they be held accountable for what happened back then? Maybe, some of them. Some have said and done things since which were very, very painful. But does there come a time when these things must be forgiven? Of course.

‘I meant it about your speech. It has disturbed me, in the best possible sense. One thing in particular has lodged in my heart and doesn’t want to leave: how long are we going to be defined by what we are not? That’s what got me thinking of my father. He was so proud to be welcomed as a Ferring. Like I said, it would have broken him to see what happened. Maybe I’m not the only one disturbed. Maybe now is the time for some honest dialogue. Some searching questions. To allow these old wounds to begin to heal. But I’m not sure you’re the one to do it.’

‘Could you be the one to do it?’

Ziva pulled a wry smile, pulling herself to her feet with an ‘oomph’. ‘Maybe twenty years ago. I may still appear to be full of vigour, but I’m not far off an old woman. And I have to think about John. While he may be open to change, his Israeli wife being the one to spearhead it would be another matter.’ She reached out, her face animated again as she took hold of Hope’s gloved hand. ‘Now, I must let you get on with your walk, and you must let me get back to the F boys! What will Felix and Finlay think if I keep them waiting?’

We each turned our separate ways, her back to the boys, Hope and I to the river. I had so much to think about, my body felt stuffed with so many different emotions, jostling about demanding attention, I kept on walking, and walking, pounding out the questions and the frustration as we crossed the muddy meadow, strode along the side of the Maddon, all the way to Old Main Street.

Gathering my courage about me, I even braved a stroll around the mini-market. One man gave me the dead-eye from the end of an aisle, shaking his head in contempt when I ignored the evil stare. The young girl behind the check-out widened her eyes when she saw me approaching, but after a brief hesitation she ran my pack of bagels and bananas through the till, and even managed a tiny smidgen of a smile when I looked her in the eye, said thank you and wished her a nice rest of the day.