The first thing Charlotte remembered was reaching for Dad’s 99 at Hull Fair, and the last was dying. It took a little while to sink in. First, she had to stare down at herself, at the mole just above the corner of her lip. She had to feel for it on her own face because it was supposed to be on the other side, wasn’t it?

The wind picked up again and shook the branches of the tree she’d been playing in, same way she’d done all summer. Climb up. Climb down. Repeat. A new sense of nostalgia came ...