Back at the hotel, and Grace opened her laptop as Ellis talked to Larry to explain that Connie’s jewels would be collected tonight, having made all the necessary arrangements with the bank. They were sitting at the table on the little balcony overlooking the seafront, the warm, evening sun bathing the palm trees in a glittery, golden sheen.

‘I’ll get some wine and snacks,’ Ellis said, having finished the call, but before Grace could respond, he had jumped up from the table and darted back through the green shuttered doors to his bedroom. She wondered what the rush was … it was as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her. And he had been very quiet on the bus back from Portofino, staring blankly out of the window for the twenty-minute journey along the rugged costal road to right outside the hotel. Then striding ahead, barely waiting for her to catch up as he entered the lift.

Why was he being so distant? They had stood in the lift together and Ellis had barely said two words to her – mostly ‘sure’, ‘great’ and ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to her chitchat about how nice, if bittersweet, it had been to get an insight into Connie’s life from people who actually knew her when she was young and vibrant. And how they had promised to keep in touch with Georgie and Tom, who were also returning to England soon. She could hear Ellis talking on the phone again now, the sound of his voice drifting through the partially open balcony door to his bedroom.

‘Jennifer, hey, babe, I’ll be back tomorrow … yes, I can’t wait to see you too.’ And, unashamedly, Grace leaned across in her seat towards his bedroom door in a bid to hear more. But Ellis must have moved away from the door or indeed gone to get wine and snacks now, as all she could hear was the sound of the cicadas in the foliage below the balcony, mingled with the waves rippling over the pebbles from the beach across the road.

Grace returned her attention to the keyboard on her laptop and opened a folder titled ‘Connie’s Contents’. Scrolling through, she discounted all the diary pages that she had already read and moved on to the miscellaneous letters and papers folder to see if there was anything more left to read that she might have missed. Ah, here we go … She clicked on a photo and saw that it was dated March 1946, so after the war had ended and after Connie and Giovanni had married. The writing in the photo was like a diary entry but had rip marks down one side of the paper, as if it had been torn from the actual diary for that year. She slipped off her sandals, tucked her legs up underneath her and started reading.

Today is the day I will become a mother. A proper mother to my darling daughter, Lara. Giovanni is driving me to Tindledale to bring her home to London and then on to Italy with us when we sail next week. It’s all arranged with Mother and Father after I wrote to them soon after my last visit to see Lara, setting out my wishes to have her with me all the time. I’ve missed her so much these last two months without a visit, but it couldn’t be helped as Mother wrote back explaining that Lara was terribly unwell with measles and so it would be prudent of me not to visit in my condition. With the pregnancy so recently confirmed by the doctor in Harley Street, Giovanni agreed too that it would be wise to wait until Lara’s health is restored.

Ah, Grace felt her heart lift on knowing that Connie was pregnant for a second time, but then immediately wondered where that child was now. She found a pad and made some notes.

Another child.

Born some time in late 1946.

Grace read on, keen to see if she could find a name for the second child. But then, hold on, her heart sank all over again, for surely Nonna Maria would have mentioned Connie having a child born in Italy soon after she arrived here. Instead she had specifically said, ‘Connie didn’t have a baby when she came to Italia’ and ‘a baby is always a gift’; that’s what Nonna Maria had said, and so Grace felt almost certain that the pregnancy hadn’t succeeded. It seemed most likely, as there was no mention of another child in any of the diaries. Oh Connie, how did you endure such heartbreak after all that you had already been through?

Grace read on.

I feel so happy and cannot wait to wrap my arms around my daughter and tell her she is coming home with her mummy. When I think of this moment soon to come, my heart fills with an abundance of love, for she is such a sunny, cheerful little girl and one that her daddy would have been so very proud of.

Grace smiled to herself, revelling in Connie’s joy. But as she read on, Grace felt her body go numb, a feeling of fear trickling from the back of her neck, snaking a path around her shoulders and down her arms before settling in her throat as she held her breath …

She’s gone. I can barely bring myself to write the words. Mother and Father have taken her from me. My darling, sweet girl, Lara, with her twinkling eyes and treacle-coloured curls has gone. When we got to the cottage there was no answer to my knock on the door; the house was shut up and so Giovanni went to the manor house across two fields at the other end of the country estate to find Father’s friend. Lord Montague does important work for the Home Office and was rather terse when he arrived back at the cottage with Giovanni. But on seeing my distress, which was so terribly hard to hold in, he agreed to open the cottage door so that I could look inside for myself.

I tore through every room, checking inside cupboards, looking underneath and behind all the furniture like a wild woman, I even opened the door of the grandfather clock in the hallway, lifted lids off chinaware on the mantelpiece and thank heavens I did or I wouldn’t have found Lara’s tiny silver baby bangle. But I knew. As I frantically searched, I knew that it was pointless. Mother had taken my baby. The baby she never wanted me to have. The baby that she had brought up in the countryside and passed off as her own, as I later discovered from Lord Montague when he referred to my sister, little Lara. All that was left of my sweet, dear girl was the silver bangle, the pink teddy from her daddy, Jimmy, and the matinee set that I knitted for her, both forgotten in the airing cupboard on the landing. Of course, Lara is too big for baby clothes now, but I really can’t help feeling it a cruel act by Mother and Father to leave behind the only things she has from her proper parents, Jimmy and me.

Hugging the little jacket, hat and bootees to my chest, I can still smell her beautiful baby scent and will treasure this for ever until I see my cherished Lara again. Dear Giovanni managed to persuade Lord Montague to spill the beans during a man-to-man discussion, on the proviso that I waited in the car, him not wanting to distress me further, and so I did, clutching the pink teddy that Jimmy had won at the fair.

Lord Montague told Giovanni that Mother and Father have gone to take care of Aunt Rachael in Manhattan. America. They said it was their duty to assist Aunt Rachael as her health is ailing and the children of their society friends in Germany and Poland are relying on her to help them secure safe passage to America and so cannot be expected to endure further suffering, for they are orphans now. Persecuted by Hitler for being Jewish, they have already experienced unimaginable pain and horror in the death camps the Allies have liberated them from.

Lord Montague assured Giovanni that he had arranged everything so Mother, Father and Lara had all the necessary papers to sail in comfort aboard the Queen Mary from Southampton in February. Whilst I cannot begrudge Mother and Father going to the aid of Aunt Rachael and all those who have suffered and now have nothing, they have still stolen my dear daughter from me. For she has been gone already for a whole month, likely never having had the measles, and so on hearing this news I cried openly, howled even, without giving a damn if my distress unnerved Lord Montague.

Grace could bear it no longer and so closed her laptop and stifled a gasp. Pressing her hand over her mouth, overwhelmed at the surge of emotion she felt on reading of Connie’s pain, she let tears trickle down her face and spill onto the table in front of her. How could they? How could Connie’s parents be so cruel as to take her child away? The betrayal enraged Grace. The matter-of-fact way this pompous-sounding Lord Montague had ripped Connie’s heart in two by telling her what he had done. For he did do it. He sent Lara away, whether it was unwittingly or not, he still did it. And so yet again, Connie was let down … no, much more than that, she was deceived by her spiteful, unfeeling parents who clearly had absolutely no regard for their daughter’s feelings or wishes. Let alone those of her child, their grandchild.

How did this separation affect Lara? Did they even care? And did she even know that Connie was coming for her, to love and cherish her at the start of what could have been a wonderful life in Italy, surrounded by love and people who knew how to have fun and to laugh … not be stuck with a pair of puritanical control freaks thousands of miles away. For it wouldn’t have been like it was now, with flights to America whenever the fancy took you. No, Connie would have been bereft, knowing that it might be years before she could see her only child again. And indeed it was so, because Grace was now convinced that Connie and Giovanni had gone to America to visit Lara, to give her the necklace for her bat mitzvah on her twelfth birthday. So if Lara was born in 1940 and was six years old in 1946, then it would have been another six years before Connie would see her. That’s if she was even allowed to see Lara, but what if she wasn’t? What if Connie’s hateful parents had prevented her, and that’s why she returned with the Star of David necklace and hid it away in her jewellery box …?

‘Why would you do it? Why would you be so cruel?’ Grace whispered to herself as she made her way towards the edge of the balcony. With her elbows perched on the rail she let her body rest forward, cupping her face in her hands, her shoulders taut with sympathy as she imagined Connie’s distress. Then, glancing up, she gazed at the turquoise sky and whispered a silent ‘sorry’ to Connie, before wiping her eyes and resolving to find Lara … no matter what it took. And then at least she could try to reverse some of the damage that Connie’s parents had inflicted upon her. Grace would show Lara the diaries, the letters, the love her mother had for her, and pass on Connie’s carefully stored possessions too, which she was now convinced were all waiting there for Lara to inherit. Connie had gathered everything she had of any value and kept it safe for her daughter to find. All that was left now was for Grace to find Lara. And then she said a silent prayer … please let Lara still be alive.