me..."
"I'm not planning on kissing anyone in the cloak room," Molly snapped. "Now, can we please talk about the divorce?"
Half an hour later, Molly left the restaurant shaken but steady. She clung to her self-righteous anger because sometimes it felt like the only thing holding her together.
I can't forgive Dan, she thought, because if I do I'll completely fall apart.
And that thought scared her... scared her even more than life without Dan.
It wasn't until she returned home from work that afternoon, exhausted and wet, that she remembered the bulky envelope in her handbag. She took it out with a faint, morbid curiosity, wondering whether she should bin it or torture herself by looking through the brochure of holidays she and Dan would now never go on.
Except it wasn't a packet of holiday brochures.
The locket slipped out into Molly's hand, gleaming dully. There was a single slip of paper with it.
Dear Mrs. Franklin,
We regret to inform you of the death of Edward Longton. He passed away on January 3, and it was in his will that this locket be sent to you. I apologize for the delay, as it took some time to locate you. If you have any questions, please contact me at the above number. Sincerely, William Dreyfuss, Solicitor.
"Edward Longton?" Molly muttered in confusion. She'd never heard of the man, and she didn't know anyone in Cornwall. Why would a stranger send her a locket?
She prised it open, and her breath caught in her throat. The photograph in the locket was a simple black and white of a woman who was laughing at something in the distance, her arms clasped around her knees.
The woman was her mother.
Molly stared at the photograph for a long moment while her coat dripped water onto the floor. Then she grabbed the piece of paper with the solicitor's number and hurried to the phone.
"Is this William Dreyfuss?" she asked when a man's voice came on the line.
"Yes, may I help you?"
"My name is Molly Franklin. I just received a locket from a client of yours, Edward Longton..."
"Ah, yes. He was most particular that the locket be sent to you. Unfortunately, there was no current address in his papers, so it took some doing."
"Yes. The thing is..." Molly hesitated. "I don't know him. I've never heard of him before. Except..." her hand clenched involuntarily around the locket, the edge cutting into her palm. "There's a photo of my mother inside."
There was a pause on the other end, as if William Dreyfuss was deciding what to say. After a moment, he replied, "I'm afraid I don't know the particulars of Mr. Longton's desire to give you the locket, Mrs. Franklin."
"You knew him, though?" Molly pressed. "You must remember something he said about it."
Another pause, and when he spoke William Dreyfuss sounded uncomfortable. "I know he was interested in your whereabouts, and he very much wanted the locket to pass into your possession."
"But why would he have a photograph of my mother?" Molly demanded, a desperate thread in her voice. "And why would he care about me?"
"Perhaps you could ask your mother--"
"I can't. She died three years ago."
"Your father?"
Molly sighed heavily. "Do you really think, Mr. Dreyfuss, that this is something I want to concern my father with?"
"That would be entirely up to you. I'm sorry I can't be of more help."
Molly hung up the phone, a heavy feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. The only reason a strange man would have kept a photograph of her mother was if he cared about her.
And the only reason that man would send the locket to her was...
"No," Molly said aloud. "No." She was jumping to conclusions. Maybe this man knew her mother was dead, and so decided to send the locket to her. Maybe he'd never even known her mother, perhaps he was some random psycho...
The thought hardly made her feel better. That weekend she decided to visit her father.
He lived in a retired community an hour from her house, so after ringing him Molly set out.
"This is an unexpected surprise," her
"I'm not planning on kissing anyone in the cloak room," Molly snapped. "Now, can we please talk about the divorce?"
Half an hour later, Molly left the restaurant shaken but steady. She clung to her self-righteous anger because sometimes it felt like the only thing holding her together.
I can't forgive Dan, she thought, because if I do I'll completely fall apart.
And that thought scared her... scared her even more than life without Dan.
It wasn't until she returned home from work that afternoon, exhausted and wet, that she remembered the bulky envelope in her handbag. She took it out with a faint, morbid curiosity, wondering whether she should bin it or torture herself by looking through the brochure of holidays she and Dan would now never go on.
Except it wasn't a packet of holiday brochures.
The locket slipped out into Molly's hand, gleaming dully. There was a single slip of paper with it.
Dear Mrs. Franklin,
We regret to inform you of the death of Edward Longton. He passed away on January 3, and it was in his will that this locket be sent to you. I apologize for the delay, as it took some time to locate you. If you have any questions, please contact me at the above number. Sincerely, William Dreyfuss, Solicitor.
"Edward Longton?" Molly muttered in confusion. She'd never heard of the man, and she didn't know anyone in Cornwall. Why would a stranger send her a locket?
She prised it open, and her breath caught in her throat. The photograph in the locket was a simple black and white of a woman who was laughing at something in the distance, her arms clasped around her knees.
The woman was her mother.
Molly stared at the photograph for a long moment while her coat dripped water onto the floor. Then she grabbed the piece of paper with the solicitor's number and hurried to the phone.
"Is this William Dreyfuss?" she asked when a man's voice came on the line.
"Yes, may I help you?"
"My name is Molly Franklin. I just received a locket from a client of yours, Edward Longton..."
"Ah, yes. He was most particular that the locket be sent to you. Unfortunately, there was no current address in his papers, so it took some doing."
"Yes. The thing is..." Molly hesitated. "I don't know him. I've never heard of him before. Except..." her hand clenched involuntarily around the locket, the edge cutting into her palm. "There's a photo of my mother inside."
There was a pause on the other end, as if William Dreyfuss was deciding what to say. After a moment, he replied, "I'm afraid I don't know the particulars of Mr. Longton's desire to give you the locket, Mrs. Franklin."
"You knew him, though?" Molly pressed. "You must remember something he said about it."
Another pause, and when he spoke William Dreyfuss sounded uncomfortable. "I know he was interested in your whereabouts, and he very much wanted the locket to pass into your possession."
"But why would he have a photograph of my mother?" Molly demanded, a desperate thread in her voice. "And why would he care about me?"
"Perhaps you could ask your mother--"
"I can't. She died three years ago."
"Your father?"
Molly sighed heavily. "Do you really think, Mr. Dreyfuss, that this is something I want to concern my father with?"
"That would be entirely up to you. I'm sorry I can't be of more help."
Molly hung up the phone, a heavy feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. The only reason a strange man would have kept a photograph of her mother was if he cared about her.
And the only reason that man would send the locket to her was...
"No," Molly said aloud. "No." She was jumping to conclusions. Maybe this man knew her mother was dead, and so decided to send the locket to her. Maybe he'd never even known her mother, perhaps he was some random psycho...
The thought hardly made her feel better. That weekend she decided to visit her father.
He lived in a retired community an hour from her house, so after ringing him Molly set out.
"This is an unexpected surprise," her
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