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Chapter 42

Abigail sat down on the sofa next to Ulysses. She leaned over the sofa arm and flicked the switch on the projector. The old machine whirred to life, casting the decades-old images onto the portable white screen.

‘That’s Somerville Hall!’ exclaimed Carys, leaning forward in her seat. She glanced at Abigail. ‘I assumed the home movie would have been filmed here in the cottage.’

Abigail nodded. ‘Most of them are, but this one will be of particular interest to you.’

‘Because they filmed it at the Hall?’

Abigail didn’t need to answer that question as the home movie followed four children taking seats at a table bedecked with party balloons and party food.

‘I don’t believe it – that’s me!’

Abigail glanced at her and smiled. ‘Do you remember this party?’ She looked at her keenly.

‘Yes, I do. I believe I was seven. Oliver was five. It was Oliver’s birthday party, but I recall my father inviting children from the local area who were born on the same day – the day of the Great Storm. I remember thinking it was a stupid idea, but that was me, quite argumentative. I think I was just jealous that Oliver’s fifth birthday was being treated as something special.’

‘Do you remember the other children who came?’

Carys nodded. ‘There were just two children, but I don’t remember their names.’

‘I do.’

Carys turned to her.

‘That’s me, the shy little girl.’ Abigail pointed at the girl in pigtails, taking a seat at the table.

‘No way!’ Carys stared at her, wide-eyed.

‘Yep. And stranger still, the boy sitting next to you was my future husband, Toby.’

Carys’s face dropped.

‘What is it?’ Abigail asked.

‘I’m so sorry that you lost your husband.’

Abigail didn’t know how much she’d found out through Lili, but she really didn’t want to get into the circumstances of his death. She’d made a sort of peace with that now, but still it wasn’t something she’d be able to talk about for a very long time, she imagined, if ever.

Carys turned back to the screen, still frowning. ‘I’m surprised the young boy was Toby because I thought he was a cousin.’

‘A cousin?’

‘Yes, the similarity …’ she trailed off.

Abigail nodded, staring at Carys.So she saw it too.

Carys watched the short home move right through to the part where Toby left early.

Abigail switched the projector off.

‘Have you any idea why Toby left early?’

Carys was still staring at the screen. She shook her head. She was now uncharacteristically quiet.

Abigail took a breath and told Carys the story of Toby being left in the porch of the cottage the night of the Great Storm, and that it was for this reason she had, at first, believed that Daphne, who’d had no children, had wanted the cottage to go to him. It had seemed a reasonable theory.

‘I didn’t get to hear what his theory was,’ she told Carys. ‘It wasn’t until after he died that I found out about the cottage. He hadn’t told me straight away. I imagine he was trying to find out himself what it was all about; whether the solicitors had made a mistake.’

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