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her son’s death. They asked me to go with them in case Peter wanted to contact me. I’ve told them he isn’t dead but being held as a prisoner or he’s been badly injured and he’s in some hospital, but they say that can’t be true as he would have been home by now.’
    As I sat in the shelter of the dunes, I was saddened by Mum’s revelations. I had overheard Granny tell Mrs Mulholland one day that Mum was tearing herself apart with all this false hope, but I also wanted to believe that Dad was still alive yet unable to come home.
    Margaret had remained quiet throughout Mum’s story, but she leaned towards her and said, ‘I know there are lots of different cultures in the world that do believe that they can communicate with lost loved ones, but it’s never been proved, Beth. One thing, however, is that the rituals of remembering the dead often bring peace and understanding.’
    To my horror, Mum began to cry. ‘I find these meetings very traumatic, Margaret. The hall is full of grieving women, for it’s mostly women who go there and some get messages from beyond the grave. I’ve told Milly that because I’ve never had a message then that proves Peter isn’t dead, because I know he would want to get in touch with me for a final goodbye. In fact, the last meeting I was at I felt so glad that there was nothing from him that I came home in a good mood.’
    I remembered that night when Mum had a look of triumph on her face, and I was suddenly saddened by all this grief and longing and the thought that we would never see Dad again.
    Margaret picked up her handbag, which was lying on the sand, and took out her handkerchief. ‘Can I give you some advice, Beth?’ Mum must have nodded because she went on. ‘I think you should stop going to these meetings because they are upsetting you. I’m not saying the organisers are frauds, but I do think they are playing with people’s emotions. These poor women who are clutching at straws to find some sort of answer to this dreadful and futile war; mothers, fathers, family and sweethearts who waved their menfolk away with banners and flags only to find that that was the last time they would see them. It must be an emotional nightmare, as it is with you and Lizzie. Have you discussed this with Mary?’
    Mum sounded horrified. ‘No, Margaret, I haven’t, and promise me you won’t say anything to her, as she will be mortified by my behaviour.’
    Margaret said she would say nothing. She turned. ‘I wonder where Lizzie is.’
    On hearing my name I felt I had to stand up and not listen any longer. I scampered back along the sand and finally stood up and called out, ‘I’m back’
    There was silence from the women, but as I approached Mum smiled brightly while Margaret looked at her watch and said, ‘I have to go and see the solicitor soon. Do you both want to come with me?’
    ‘Oh yes, I do,’ I said, but Mum didn’t look too sure. I was hopping about, eager to go, so she finally agreed.
    ‘We won’t be in the way, will we, Margaret?’
    My aunt smiled. ‘You’re never in my way, both of you. Of course I want you with me.’
    We went back to the hotel, where we had our midday meal, then it was off to the solicitor, who had his office on the main street. We had to climb a flight of stairs, but the office was quite large and airy and overlooked the street. Mr Anderson was sitting behind a large desk, but he stood up when we entered. I think he was a bit surprised when he saw the three of us, but Margaret introduced us and we were shown to some comfy-looking chairs.
    Mr Anderson had a thin file in front of him and he passed it over to my aunt. ‘I have three houses that are suitable for renting or buying and you can go and view them anytime.’
    Margaret said she could go right away and look at them. Mr Anderson left the room and quickly came back with three sets of keys. ‘The file has all the relevant information, along with the addresses, and I can arrange for a