‘So you’ve been up and about then?’ Annabel asked, pleased to see that he was dressed for the day.
‘Yes, I’ve been up, doing my exercises, but I’m under doctor’s orders to rest up and not overdo it.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Although, between you and me,’ he added, lowering his voice to a whisper as he looked over towards the bedroom door, checking the coast was clear, ‘the doctor’s orders are a breeze, compared to your mother’s!’
Annabel laughed and shook her head fondly. ‘Quite right, too!’ she said. ‘We want you fit and well and back on your feet as soon as possible. I hope you’re behaving yourself?’
Noel grinned and gave her a mock salute. ‘Aye aye, Captain!’
They chatted about various things, from the arrangements that Annabel and William had made for Dotty’s funeral, to her mother’s latest plans for a new pergola in the garden.
It was so good to see her father and feel the warmth of his easy company. A wave of loneliness suddenly rose up in Annabel. ‘I can come over, you know, Dad; I can fly from Bristol very easily. I can come and help take care of you.’
Her father sensed the shift in her mood and smiled. ‘Oh, that’s so kind of you, my darling. And you know you are always welcome here, and we would love to see you.’ He glanced towards the bedroom door and lowered his voice again. ‘But you know what your mother’s like; she’s got everything mapped out for the next couple of weeks, and you know she’s not good when plans get changed.’
‘Good point,’ Annabel said, mustering a smile.
‘But we’ll be coming over very soon and I’m so looking forward to seeing you, Annie! It must be tough holding the fort at Mum’s, but don’t feel you have to stay. I’m sure her friend Pam would take care of Monty and you could head home. Or better yet, take yourself off for a change of scenery for a few days; it is meant to be your holiday, after all!’
‘Dad,’ she began. ‘I’ve been thinking.’ She paused, choosing her next words carefully. ‘I only really knew her as a grandmother, but was Dotty a good mother?’
A broad smile spread across Noel’s handsome face and his eyes suddenly glistened. ‘She was the very best!’
His expression changed to a look of confusion as he continued, ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose all of this has made me think about our family and where we all come from. I don’t think I’ve ever really heard much about your childhood, when you were very little. You were born during the war; what was it like?’
Noel blew out, as he considered his answer. ‘Well, I can’t remember the very beginning, obviously.’ He chuckled. ‘I was born in London, but I suppose my first real memories were in Cornwall, at the farm. We moved there after the war. Halcyon days of sunshine, sandcastles, baby lambs and Mum’s baking!’
‘It sounds idyllic.’ Annabel smiled.
Noel nodded. ‘It was indeed. I had a wonderful childhood, I was very lucky.’
Annabel thought back to Dr Underwood’s question in the hospital before Dotty’s death: ‘Your mother or father wasn’t adopted?’
She felt an uncomfortable knot in her stomach. Was Noel hiding something or was he blissfully unaware? There was no way she could ask him outright, what if she had got it all wrong? It would be an unkind thing to do while he was grieving the loss of his much-loved mother.
‘And Dotty?’ she asked, changing tack. ‘Where did she live when she was younger? Before she married Grandad, I mean?’
‘London, too. Fulham, actually. It was quite a modest terraced house back then, but these days I gather it’s become quite a flash area.’
‘She never moved anywhere else? Never lived abroad or anything like that?’
Noel laughed at the suggestion. ‘Mum? Live abroad? Hardly! She hated travelling, she never wanted to go anywhere. You know what she was like, always said she was perfectly happy at home!’
‘But you mentioned a holiday somewhere hot, remember? At Dotty’s birthday party?’
Noel’s brow creased. ‘Oh yes, that was a funny one. But Mum was quite adamant that we didn’t go abroad, so we couldn’t have.’ He shrugged. ‘She thought I was probably remembering a camping trip to Dorset in 1947. There was a tremendous heatwave that summer, apparently, and she thought that was probably it.’
Annabel nodded, but something wasn’t adding up. Her eye fell on the pile of letters and old sepia photographs on the coffee table beside her. She was itching to ask her father about them, but it seemed that he was none the wiser. Again, she felt it wasn’t fair to burden him with half-baked theories while he was recovering from surgery and mourning Dotty’s passing. She needed to find more conclusive evidence before potentially shattering the idyllic story of his childhood.
The rest of the morning was punctuated by a series of rings – doorbell and telephone – as various well-wishers offered their condolences and volunteered offers of help. In between, Annabel pottered about, feeling unsettled and confused. Although William had done sterling work on sorting the impersonal contents of the shed, she could not bring herself to start sorting the house; she would be happy to leave it to her sensible, pragmatic mother in a few weeks’ time. Her mind was on overdrive, trying to piece together and make sense ofthe snippets of information she’d gleaned from the photos and letters. But she just couldn’t figure it out.
Later that afternoon, Annabel decided to follow her father’s advice and head home. She couldn’t face the thought of staying at the farm on her own for another fortnight until her parents arrived and she felt a yearning for the comfort and security of her own four walls. Luke would be away for another couple of nights, so she would be able to please herself. She felt exhausted after the emotional turmoil of the last few days and welcomed the thought of a long bubble bath and a lazy evening on the sofa in charge of the remote control.
The only fly in the ointment was the guilt she felt about leaving Monty. The loyal old dog looked up at her with such love and devotion that she could have sworn he could see into her soul. She hugged him tight before dropping him off at Pam’s, promising that she would be back to see him again soon.
It was such a spontaneous decision to head home and, knowing that he would be busy away with work, Annabel hadn’t bothered to message Luke. She would text him later that evening, once she had had time to relax and unwind, and was feeling less prickly towards him.
She did, however, text Jenny. She lived nearby and Annabel was eager to get her take on Dotty’s Singapore letters. Her friend loved a good mystery and would help her hatch a plan on how best to proceed. She was pleased to see Jenny’s reply when she stopped for petrol at the M5 services.
