Chapter 11
It was the summer of 1962, and Jeremy had been gone a little more than a year. It had taken some time, but I’d pulled myself together. However, although I’d concealed it, Jeremy’s loss was always like a living thing within me.
I’d been unable to bear sleeping in the bed I’d shared with him for so many years; I couldn’t even stand to be in that room. I’d gathered up all my clothes and took a final look around, my gaze resting on the photograph of the two of us in its silver frame that sat on the bedside chest at Jeremy’s side of the bed, a reminder of our first holiday after we’d joined MI6. We’d been so happy, so full of life and love…
I’d shut the door behind me and moved my things into the second bedroom.
* * * *
Jamie had turned thirteen that May, and now it was time for
