not chosen. It had been taken in their small back garden; she recognized the tricycle, which lay on its side in the background. The flowerbeds looked overgrown. He was taller, thinner, as if he had been stretched. Life had gone on apace without her. She scrutinized the photograph, wishing it might reveal more. It was some time before she turned her attention to the letter.
“My dearest E. I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you are quite yourself again. I was right: Embers was just the place for you to recuperate. Teddy sends kisses—and I thought you would like this photo. We took it a couple of weeks ago, just after his first haircut. He is so proud to be a ‘big boy’ now, you will hardly recognize him. We have all missed you terribly and are overjoyed to hear that you will soon return home. Unfortunately, I cannot be spared, the reasons for which I will not bore you with, so I have arranged a ticket for you on the sleeper to London on the second of April and a driver will meet you at the station when you arrive. We cannot wait to see you and have you home with us again. Much love always, John.”
The second of April. A little over a week away. The days would go too slowly and yet too fast.
Chapter Fifty-One
London, Spring 2018
Eve brushed her grandmother’s long hair, sweeping it back off her face and letting it fall in soft waves around her shoulders. “You look lovely, Grams,” she said, handing her a mirror and a pot of Pond’s Cold Cream. She’d never known her to use anything else and Grams had certainly never been one for makeup.
“I look so old.” Her grandmother uttered a rare complaint, making a face at herself in the mirror.
“Nonsense. You’re in better shape than a woman half your age . . . well, at least you were before the accident and you will be again, I have no doubt at all. And you’re still beautiful. You always will be.” Eve hugged her as tightly as she dared, feeling the knobby bones of her spine beneath the cardigan. She was relieved that her grandmother appeared to have rallied in recent days and that she was now up and about again, moving the few meters from her bedroom to the sitting room with slow but steady determination, refusing the walker that Eve had been advised to acquire. It stood, unused, in the hallway, gathering dust. The GP had visited the day before and given her the go-ahead to venture outside, into the fresh spring air. Their outing that morning, to the café just a few meters away on the corner, had gone well and brought a new touch of pink to her cheeks.
Eve had no idea what she would do once her grandmother no longer needed her. It was too late for her to join David in Africa, and in any case his emails had dried up. She was fairly certain there was little left to salvage of that relationship. She supposed she should have been upset, but strangely it didn’t bother her much. What was of more concern, however, was that she had no idea what to do with her life once her nursemaid and transcription skills were no longer required.
They’d made good progress on the autobiography in the last few weeks and Grams had handed over a stack of notes she’d been guarding for Eve to type up. Eve reckoned they’d have a first draft for the publisher by the early summer. However, there was still something her grandmother was keeping from her, she felt sure of it. Perhaps today’s visitor would loosen the strings of her grandmother’s memory.
“You remember that Rachel is coming again today. You know, the woman who found the letters,” she reminded her.
“Yes of course, Eve. I’ve not lost my memory yet thank you.”
As Grams’s health improved, her irascible nature had also reasserted itself.
“Perhaps she’s found some more things of yours?”
“Possibly. I did leave a suitcase there—I always wondered what happened to a coat I had when I was at Embers. Astrakhan if I remember correctly. It was very expensive at the time.”
“What’s astrakhan?”
“The fleece of fetal or newborn lambs.”
Eve shuddered.
“I know. Sounds barbaric now, doesn’t it?” she said with a glint in her eye.
“Just a bit, Grams,” Eve snorted.
“Things were different then. In all sorts of ways that you’ll probably never understand.”
“Maybe she’s found Richard?” Eve said, trying to sound