He was being light and playful, which was his way of avoiding the fact that he was over an hour late. Sophie didn’t respond to his lively banter, hoping her coolness would alert him to the fact she was angry.
He noticed the chill straight away. ‘I’m sorry, Soph, seriously I am,’ he continued. ‘Don’t be angry with me. You wouldn’t believe how busy it’s been at work. The US exchange dropped like a stone this afternoon, and everyone in the office was panicking. You know how we are affected with Brexit and all these international concerns.’
‘I imagine that for some reason the problems with the stock market meant that somehow your fingers were unable to text me, then?’ The hurt was evident behind her tone, but her response colder than she’d wanted to sound.
He held up his phone. ‘Battery’s dead,’ he stated, sounding sheepish. ‘I meant to charge it before I left the house this morning and I completely forgot. It ran out about three hours ago and I haven’t got my charger with me, so I’ve been winging it, which is why I couldn’t find you in here. Though, I have to tell you, there’s a wonderful exhibition about Anne Frank down the hall that I think you’d love.’
She shook her head. This pattern was becoming familiar to her. When they had first got together, he’d always been so dependable, almost too dependable, wanting to see her as much as possible; now he was always late, with some excuse for why he couldn’t make it on time. Sophie was in her late thirties and Matt hadn’t been her first relationship, but she had been very focused on her career up until they’d met, and their shared desire for success had made it a very companionable one. But everything had changed for them when she had unexpectedly become pregnant with Emily. She had been surprised but overjoyed, Matt had been shocked at first. But his precious daughter had won him over from the very moment he had held her in his arms and her tiny hand had hooked itself around his little finger.
She looked over at Matt, trying to read him as he continued to accompany her around the gallery, asking her questions about the pictures, but seeming distracted.
Before she left the museum, Sophie returned to the photo that had intrigued her so much and took a quick picture of the woman in it. She wondered if her grandmother would recognise her.
Making her way out into the damp streets that were now aglow with blue twilight, she walked beside Matt in silence.
‘Would you like to get some dinner?’ she asked, just to make conversation.
He grimaced. ‘You know, normally I would, Soph. I really do need to get back to work.’
‘In the evening? Aren’t most of the markets closed now?’
‘Yeah, they are, but I do need to check in on a few things. I ran out and left them all in the middle of something. Let’s have a rain check on that.’
He kissed her on the cheek as he hailed a taxi. Sophie sighed. Maybe her gran would be up for a visit after all. She called her and heard the familiar voice of the sweetest woman in the world.
‘Hey, Gran, it’s me. I was wondering if you were up for a visit?’
Bessy sounded delighted at the idea, and Sophie hung up and made her way to the Tube. It was about thirty minutes from the Imperial War Museum to Hackney, where her gran lived, which gave her plenty of time to contemplate how remarkable this photo was as she stared at it on her phone. Once again, Sophie felt the familiar waves of nostalgia and grief wash over her. If it hadn’t been the 1940s it could be a photo of her mother, Alice, or maybe even a future picture of her daughter, if Emily’d had the chance to live longer.
2
Arriving at Bessy’s comfortable apartment in Hackney, Sophie was once again amazed to see how the area had evolved over the last few years. Once a little run-down and known for its violence and crime, the East End was undoubtedly making its way up in the world.
‘Hello, love.’ Her gran’s beaming face greeted her at the door, and the smell of something wonderful cooking embraced her as she stepped inside. Her grandmother hugged her as tightly as she always did until Sophie had to remind her she couldn’t breathe. Bessy chuckled. ‘It’s because you’re so skinny. If you weren’t so thin, you’d be capable of being hugged.’ She shuffled down the hall as she continued to chat to Sophie over her shoulder. ‘No man wants a woman too skinny.’
‘I already have a boyfriend, Gran. Matt, remember?’ Sophie responded defensively.
Her gran eyed her questioningly as she entered the kitchen. ‘Isn’t it about time you two settled down?’
This was a conversation she frequently had with her grandmother in one form or another. A woman who’d been married just after her eighteenth birthday found it hard to understand why her granddaughter was still unwed, especially considering Sophie and Matt had had a child together.
Sophie hastily changed the subject. ‘Something smells amazing.’
Gran nodded, moving to the stove and retrieving her oven gloves. ‘I’ve got a bit of dinner warming for you, in case you were hungry.’
‘Oh, I’m fine, Gran, you shouldn’t have gone to any trouble.’ Sophie was about to continue to protest when the older woman put her hand in the air, signifying the conversation was over and Sophie would be eating a plate of shepherd’s pie, the source of the delectable aroma that permeated the whole kitchen, whether she liked it or not.
Sophie made her way to the table and into one of her gran’s 1970s’ chrome and yellow faux-leather dining chairs, which featured in so many great memories from growing up. It felt like her heart sighed with a feeling of being home. Sophie had often visited the estate in Cornwall that her extended family still owned. But, much to the chagrin of her grandfather’s family, when he had died, her grandma had moved back to the place she grew up, and Sophie’s mum, a single mother, had come back too, bringing Sophie with her.
‘Hackney’s my home, love,’ Bessy would declare to her granddaughter. ‘Cornwall’s charming, and it was your grandfather’s home, but this is where my friends are.’
Sophie’s great-uncle Tom now lived in the manor in Cornwall, along with his family.
‘It wasn’t really my cup of tea,’ Bessy would say when Sophie asked her about her move from the West Country.
Bessy placed in front of Sophie a plate of steaming creamy mashed potato, browned under the grill, that covered minced lamb with onions and vegetables, then bustled off to her cooker to put the kettle on.
‘Always good to see you, Sophie,’ her gran continued in a singsong way.
Pudding, Gran’s rather large tabby cat, hopped up onto Sophie’s lap and kneaded her thigh as Sophie considered Gran’s words. She wished she came to see her more often. She loved it. But the sadness of the last year had crippled her; it had taken all of her focus just to dress and get to work in the morning.
‘Well, obviously I wanted to see you. But I also have a mystery I’m hoping you can help me solve,’ Sophie stated, unable to resist heaping a large forkful of the delicious shepherd’s pie into her mouth, suddenly feeling ravenous.
‘A mystery?’ Gran said, raising her eyebrows under her permed blonde hair.
‘I have a photograph I need to show you.’
Her grandmother retrieved her reading glasses and settled on a chair at the table next to Sophie to look at her phone. She peered at it. ‘How am I supposed to be able to see that?’ she asked. ‘It’s tiny.’