My truelove is never coming home! I swear my heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces as my knees buckled and I grasped the back of an armchair on hearing the news. Mother and Father travelled all the way here on the train to Tindledale especially to tell me themselves. Killed in a training exercise is what Father explained, with his head bowed and black fedora hat pressed to his chest as he imparted the terribly sad news in the middle of Aunt Maud’s sitting room. Mother put a steadying hand on my arm as she passed her best embroidered hanky towards me. I managed to control my emotions, though, and didn’t cry until I was alone upstairs in the bedroom.

Hitler has a lot to answer for!

This world is so cruel.

Poor Jimmy will never see the baby that is kicking its tiny feet as it grows within me, and this darling soul will never feel the love of the marvellous father that I know Jimmy would have been. The father that poor Jimmy could and should have had the chance to be if he hadn’t gone off to learn how to fight in Hitler’s phoney war! Not even a proper war.

Mother says adoption is the only option now, especially as I’m unmarried and will not be in any fit state to deal with the grief as well as look after a new baby all on my own. Because that is what I shall be: alone! An unwed mother. Not even my best friend, Kitty, knows of my predicament. There was no time for me to even get a message to her before I was sent away, and Mother says she saw her at the station going off to join the Land Army in Oxfordshire, so I can’t burden her with my troubles when she needs to concentrate on doing her bit for the war effort. Mother also says it won’t be long now until baby arrives. But how can I bear to be parted from Jimmy’s child when it is all I have left in the world? And this poor mite doesn’t deserve to be abandoned to strangers who never even knew Jimmy. How will they ever be able to tell our child what a marvellous man he was?

In the lounge below her mother’s bedroom, with her laptop on her knees, having transferred the pictures of Connie’s paperwork from her mobile, Grace felt a solitary tear trickle down the side of her nose as she wished she could reach into poor Connie’s diary and sweep her up into an enormous hug. Although Jimmy had died a lifetime ago, Grace knew the sense of loss for a life you thought you were going to have never really goes away, and she wondered if Connie still felt it after all these years … if it turned out that she was still alive. And Grace was even more hopeful now that her instinct was wrong and Connie was still here.

She would love to meet her, to see a glimpse of the young woman she was reading about back in … she paused to click through her photo stream to find the date of the diary she was reading from … ah, January 1940. During the Second World War. So Jimmy served his country and courageously gave his young life so that others could live on in peace. But not for poor Connie; Grace imagined her life was shattered on losing her love, and therefore so very far from peaceful.

Grace made a note in the pad on the coffee table in front of her. ‘Jimmy died – 1940. Connie’s baby born 1940.’ So the baby would be in her seventies if she were still alive today, thought Grace, assuming the child was a girl on remembering the delicate pink hand-knitted matinee jacket and bootees. She vowed to read on and see if she could find the name of Connie’s daughter, as that would probably be the easiest and quickest way to find her mother, Constance di Donato, now that she knew the truelove mentioned in the later diary extract in Italy clearly wasn’t Jimmy. ‘Another man’ … Grace wrote on the pad, followed by, ‘Italian? Connie’s husband? Mr di Donato.’ And then she made a list of questions she would look for answers to in amongst Connie’s paperwork inside the unit.

1. Who is he?

2. Where did they meet?

3. Where is he now?

4. Was Connie’s baby (a girl?) adopted?

5. If not adopted, did the baby take Mr Donato’s surname?

6. Ask Betty to ask Maggie for advice on how we can look up the name ‘Donato’ on the ancestry websites that she uses to make her family trees.

7. Or, better still, how do we go about looking on the electoral roll?

Donato is an unusual name; there can’t be that many people with it, surely, and if Connie’s daughter did take her stepfather’s name and then never married, or even if she did, she may have kept her name in any case, so we could find her that way. Grace’s head was spinning as she went through all the possible options.

She placed her laptop and pen on the sofa beside her and sat back, still and numb for a while, letting the silent tears flow for Jimmy and the heartbroken, lonely young woman from the past who had been left behind with Jimmy’s unborn baby. Loneliness was a terrible thing, Grace knew; she had endured it when Matthew first left and before she’d conceded and had given up the flat, unwillingly moving back in with her controlling mother. And, from the sounds of it, Connie had a controlling, unfeeling mother too! Who tells their grieving young daughter that giving their unborn baby away is the only option? Grace knew things had been different for unmarried mothers back in those days when Connie was a young woman, but still, it felt so heartless, and why was she far away in the countryside and not with her parents when she most likely needed them the most?

Grace wiped her tears. Determined to find something or some way of helping Connie, she picked her laptop up and read on. The next few pages were blank as she tapped through on the mouse pad, but then something familiar caught her eye. After tapping back a page, she took a proper look.

If only I had kept my passion and love for Jimmy intact a little longer, certainly until my eighteenth birthday on 20 June, and then we could have married and …

Grace sat bolt upright. The twentieth of June. That was her birthday too. Her pulse quickened. What were the chances of that? It had to be a sign. She liked signs, and wasn’t sure why exactly, other than that they tended to feel comforting, reassuring somehow. As the similarity sank in, drawing her and Connie together over the decades, a fresh batch of tears came as she picked up her pen and pad and tried to write.

8. 20 June. Mine and Connie’s birthdays!!!

Grace let all the feelings flood through her until, moments later, she became aware of a colourful flash at the window. A Hawaiian shirt in petrol blue with vibrant green parrots all over it was jigging up and down. Jamie from next door was tapping on the front-room window and waving exuberantly with his other hand. Grace quickly swiped at the tears with the sleeve of her top and leapt up, motioning to him that she was coming to the front door. After taking a brief moment to gather herself, she let him in.

‘How are you, Grace? A million miles away you were then. Everything OK?’ he asked, folding his tattoo-covered forearms and staring at her intently. ‘You looked like you were crying. Not that I was spying on you or anything – I had barely glimpsed in before I tapped on the window. Promise.’ And he enveloped her in an enormous embrace, the waft of his coconut hair gel engulfing her. Grace let herself lean into his gym-honed chest, grateful for the moment of comfort. ‘Ah, that’s it, love, you let it all out,’ he added, when she couldn’t help her shoulders from heaving up and down. The last few months had been so exhausting, what with caring for Cora and then on reading and absorbing Connie’s pain … well, it all felt so overwhelming right now and Grace realised she was crying again. An ugly cry with the tears sprinkling all over the shoulder part of Jamie’s cheery parrot shirt.

‘Is that you, Jamie?’ Cora’s voice bellowed, breaking in to Grace’s moment of comfort from her friend. Jamie lifted his chin from where it had been resting gently on top of Grace’s head and responded.

‘Yes it is, Cora. I’ll be up to see you after I’ve spent some time with Grace, OK?’ he called out, firmly, never one to take any nonsense from her mother.

‘Of course, love. No rush, I know how busy you are at the hospital … get Grace to make you a cup of tea, I’m sure you could do with one.’ And her voice faded as she turned the volume of the TV up even higher.

‘Can you turn that down, please, Cora? It’s very loud,’ Jamie added, giving Grace a look as he let out a sigh and rolled his eyes.

‘Oh, yes, sorry. I didn’t realise,’ Cora acquiesced sweetly, and the TV volume instantly lowered.

‘How do you do that?’ Grace whispered, shaking her head as she went to pull away. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry,’ she added, on seeing the state of his parrot-print shirt. But he gave her another squeeze before taking her hand in his and leading her into the lounge.

‘Oh don’t worry about a few tears, they will all come out in the wash,’ he said, gently.

‘There you go.’ He steered her to the sofa. ‘Now sit down and I’ll make you a nice mug of tea and you can tell me all about it. Better out than in.’ He squeezed her hands in his before turning on his heel and heading towards the kitchen.

Half an hour later, and Grace had told Jamie all about unit 28 and Constance di Donato’s diaries and beautiful belongings.

‘Blimey! How intriguing,’ Jamie exclaimed through a mouthful of strawberry jam on extremely buttery toast – he had made several rounds to go with their tea, declaring this a very justified moment for some good comfort food. ‘But desperately sad too. Do we know what happened to the baby yet? Was she adopted?’

‘I honestly don’t know. Maybe Connie will tell us soon. There are lots more diary pages and scraps of paper to look at, but it’s slow going trying to piece a proper timeline together as they don’t seem to be in a logical order.’ Grace took another mouthful of tea as she nodded towards her laptop.

‘But you already have clues to investigate,’ Jamie suggested.

‘Such as?’ Grace put down the mug and lifted her pad and pen, poised to note any ideas that Jamie might have.

‘Well, her address in London for starters.’

‘What do you mean? The post from there was all returned with “Not known at this address”, so we know that she doesn’t live there any more.’

‘Fair enough. But a neighbour might know where she moved to, or how about the person who does live there now? Somebody wrote on the envelopes and put them back in the post. Somebody kind. Somebody who cares. I couldn’t be bothered with all that.’ He let out a long sigh before cramming a jammy crust into his mouth.

‘Really?’ Grace quizzed as she turned to study her best friend. She was surprised by his attitude, as she thought Jamie was the kindest and most caring person she knew, alongside Larry and Betty of course. ‘So what would you do then if post arrived for someone who used to live at your house?’

‘That’s highly unlikely – you know we’ve lived next door for as long as I can remember. But I guess I’d chuck it in the bin,’ he said and shrugged.

‘That’s terrible.’ She batted his arm. ‘You can’t do that.’

‘Why not? Of course you can. Unless it had a credit card inside or something like that … then I’d open it and pocket the card ready for some seriously fraudulent online spending. Card and address details right there. Bingo!’ He rubbed his hands together in glee.

Silence followed.

‘You idiot!’ Grace proclaimed, when the penny dropped that he was messing around and teasing her.

‘What?’ He pretended to cower as she batted him with her pad. ‘Oh Grace, as if I would do a thing like that! You are so gullible. Always have been.’

‘No I’m not!’

‘Ouch. That hurt,’ he laughed, going to grab the pad away from her grasp.

‘Sorry,’ she mouthed, halfheartedly.

‘Ah, don’t be. It’s just nice to see you smile, Grace. You can’t blame me for pulling your leg … I had to do something to lift your mood as you looked so down when I was staring at you through the window.’ He grinned, cheekily.

‘Oi, but I thought you said you weren’t stalking me,’ she retaliated, jabbing him with her pen which he swiped out of her hand and tossed across the room.

‘Here. Have the last piece of toast,’ he said, changing the subject as he lifted the plate and put it in Grace’s lap.

‘Oh no thanks, I’m full up.’ She went to push the plate away.

‘Nonsense. You’ve barely eaten anything and sometimes you need to feed the soul, my sweet. And I’d say that time is now. Grace, my darling, you are withering away and those circles under your eyes tell me you aren’t sleeping at all. Come on, what’s really going on? Your gorgeous green eyes used to sparkle … is Cora being horrendous?’ He lowered his voice and lifted his eyes upwards to the ceiling. ‘You must be firmer with her. The no-nonsense approach is the only way, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, Jamie. I’m fine. I’m tired, that’s all. A few late nights …’ She looked away, knowing it was so much more than that and Jamie was her oldest and closest friend, but she also knew that if she went into it all now – Cora and the full extent of her care needs, what had happened with Phil – then there was no saying how she’d feel … she’d cry again for sure, and that wasn’t really fair on him. No, now was not the time for a pity party for one. In any case, she just didn’t have the energy for any more emotion.

‘But you’re not fine, Grace. Look, why don’t you put your feet up for an hour here on the sofa and I’ll go and keep your mother company for a bit. I can get her scratchcards and then encourage her to take a while going through them. You never know, she might hit the jackpot and you’ll have your ticket out of here … they do a very nice care package at the Treetops Residential Home over in Bromley on the outskirts of London. Costs a bomb, but why not if you can afford it?’ He nonchalantly lifted one shoulder to punctuate his point.

‘Honestly, you don’t need to do that.’

‘Yes I do! Grace, how long have we been friends?’ Jamie looked her square in the eyes with a determined look on his face.

‘Um, for ever,’ she said, ‘since we were children and you stole my dress-up shoes that time. I got them from a charity shop and had managed to hide them from Bernie and Sinead for ages … and then I caught you dancing around in the garden in them. Covered in grass stains they were when I got them back.’ She shook her head and laughed.

‘Exactly! And what gorgeous shoes they were. I would have died for those heels – silver crystal platforms.’ He shook his head and made dreamy eyes, clearly in shoe heaven.

‘Well, you nearly did die that time when your dad caught you and whacked your backside for dressing up like a “big girl’s blouse”,’ Grace said bluntly, and instantly regretted it on seeing a flicker of a flinch on Jamie’s face. ‘Sorry, that was insensitive of me,’ she swiftly added, touching her friend’s arm.

‘Ah, don’t be. I’m over it. Dad was a dinosaur. He was never cut out for having a son like me. A big pansy!’ Jamie rolled his eyes. ‘Anyway, back to the point … you and I have been friends for donkey’s years and there has been many an occasion when you’ve helped me out. Like when you let me stash my eyeliner in your school bag, not to mention when I used to go on dates with boys and you pretended that I was with you when Dad came round here shouting the odds the next day. So, let me help you out now, please. Plus, you have to trust me … I’m a nurse! So I’m ordering you to get some rest.’ And he lifted her feet up and swung her legs round so she was now lying on the sofa.

‘But …’ She went to sit back up.

‘Nope! I shan’t take no for an answer. Stay there and I will see to Cora. And then later on we can work out a plan for you to play detective and go and visit the address you have for Connie, to see what you can discover about her whereabouts.’

‘I can’t do that!’ Grace said, immediately panicked. She couldn’t remember Mrs Donato’s address off the top of her head, but she was quite certain a trip there would involve going on a bus that took a different route to the one she was used to, or worse still, a train journey involving many, many steps just to get to the station before even boarding the train.

‘Yes you can.’ Silence followed. ‘Come on, Grace … where’s your fire?’ He crouched down in front of her and placed one hand on her shoulder, then in a gentler voice he added, ‘OK, I know it’s not easy, my love. But look how far you’ve already come. You can do this. You really can. I know you can, I promise you.’

‘Hmm, maybe,’ Grace ventured, placing her hand on top of his.

‘Maybe what?’ Jamie tilted his head to one side and smiled tenderly. She moved her hand to the side of his face. He was such a kind and thoughtful man.

‘Well, it depends …’

‘Depends on what?’

‘If you come with me?’ Grace stared him in the eye, hoping he’d agree as she very much liked the idea of investigating Connie’s whereabouts. Not to mention seeing where she had actually lived here in London. But the thought of travelling there on her own filled her with fear.

‘Sure. I can do that.’ He nodded like it was no big deal.

‘Really?’ Her eyes widened.

‘Yes, really.’ He smiled. ‘And the next time you venture out somewhere new by yourself, I’ll come with you halfway, and then the time after that I’ll come a quarter of the way and then, before you know it, you will be going all the way by yourself and you’ll be absolutely golden!’ And he clapped his hands together, seemingly having it all worked out. ‘Ooh, it’s so exciting, like a proper TV detective drama. Larry might even let you go there during work hours … it is a work matter, after all. So you won’t have to worry about her ladyship upstairs,’ he paused to point a finger at the ceiling, ‘and I will figure something out with my shifts. We’ll be like Cagney and Lacey!’

And, seemingly content with this plan, Grace nodded off before Jamie had even reached the stairs leading up to Cora’s bedroom.