She just kept smiling as she looked up at him. ‘Because I’m happy for the first time in forever, and because I’ve had an idea for a photography project,’ she told him.
He kissed her lips, warm and slow.
‘Will you come back to Paris and visit?’ he asked when he pulled away.
Mia grinned. ‘It wouldn’t be so hard to convince me.’
She could have asked him what it would mean if she came back to see him, but she didn’t want to. What they had was enough, it had to be, without her trying to complicate it.
‘Who will I eat croissants with, if you don’t?’ he teased. ‘Mornings won’t be the same without being sent out for coffee and breakfast.’
‘Maybe next time you’ll have to come to London, and I can run around after you instead,’ she said.
He pressed his cheek to hers, still cradling her from behind, his skin warm. ‘Perhaps.’
The truth was that Mia didn’t know if she would ever see Joe again, but if she were given even half a chance, if he invited her back just for a weekend, it would be the fastest train ticket she’d ever bought to come back and see him. Mia leaned back, her head nestled in the spot between his neck and jaw.
What scared her was how easily she could get used to being in his arms.
It wasn’t until later that night, sitting up in bed, phone in hand, that Mia had time to really think through her idea. But as excited as she was by it, she was still a little nervous about what she was proposing.
She lifted her phone again and reread her email. She knew that Georgia, Ella and Charlotte were likely to be receptive, but she didn’t feel she knew the other women well enough to guess what their reactions might be. But then again, she knew how much the little boxes she’d given them had come to mean to them, so maybe, just maybe, they would all say yes.
I often think about the first time I met each of you, and how we came into each other’s lives as strangers, yet now share such a special bond. Hope is, of course, the link that connects us all, and I know that the discovery of those seven boxes has changed all of your lives. Each of you has told me privately just how much your discovery of your family’s past has come to mean to you, which is why I wanted to reach out to you all.
Hope left behind more mysteries than answers when she passed, and my hope is to uncover her past and share some or all of her story, depending on how much I find. Most of you won’t know that I’m a photographer, and although wildlife was once my forte, I’d now like to turn my hand to something more personal. I’d like to document my journey of discovery into Hope’s past, and I’d also like to photograph each of you with your box, to tell that part of her story through photos, in honour of Hope’s memory. I’d like to showcase a handful of the lives Hope touched, and see if any more women come forward with a connection to her house.
Five years ago now, my fiancé passed away. He was with me one moment, and the next, a tragic accident took him from me, and I haven’t created any work that I’ve truly loved since then. But I’ve come to believe that Hope’s gift to me was the chance to find myself creatively again. For the past few years I’ve worked as a writer, but I want to rediscover my love for photography, and tell the story of our journeys through images, if you’d be so kind as to let me.
If you’re not comfortable with having your photograph taken or your names published, please let me know. But if you are, please trust in me to create something beautiful, images that I’d like to display in a gallery, and share the experience with you all if I can.
With love,
Mia xx
Her finger hovered, and then she pressed send.
30
LONDON, 1938
Hope was nervous as she waited for Charles’s friends to arrive, but from the moment she walked into the hallway to greet them, she realised she needn’t have worried—she’d never felt such warmth from strangers before.
‘This is her?’ asked a woman with silver-grey hair piled on top of her head.
‘Well, unless there are any other gorgeous young women joining us, I’d say it’s a fair assumption,’ a handsome older man said, laughing as he held out his hand to Hope.
‘Yes, this is indeed my niece,’ Charles said, coming to stand beside her as the other man kissed her hand. ‘Everyone, this is Hope.’
‘I’m Peter,’ he said, his eyes as warm as his smile as they met hers. ‘I’ve heard so much about you.’
Hope laughed as the woman elbowed Peter out of the way and reached forward to clasp Hope’s hand.
‘Elizabeth! Always so impatient,’ Peter muttered, flashing Hope a good-natured smile.
‘Hope, it’s so wonderful to meet you, and look at you!’ Elizabeth said, glancing at her stomach, her smile wide. ‘Absolutely stunning, just as Charles described.’
‘I, well—’ Hope stuttered, not quite sure what to say in response.
