The Forgotten Village. Lorna Cook

being stretchered into the ambulance though.’ Mr Hunter gave a chuckle.

      ‘Oh God,’ Guy said, throwing his leg back over and landing with a thud on the crazy paving. ‘Thanks.’ He rushed towards his car.

      ‘Get your mum to let me know how she is, will you?’ Mr Hunter called as Guy slammed the car door and sped towards the hospital.

      Melissa had wandered around Tyneham again to soak in the atmosphere after Guy had left to have tea with his gran. And then she’d run out of things to look at and had forced herself into the car and back to the cottage. Hours later, she looked at her watch. Where was Liam? She exhaled loudly as she thought about what to say to him about the restaurant booking. And everything else. She had no idea how she was going to begin and yet she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. She suddenly felt nervous and tried to think about something else.

      And then Guy popped in to her head. He had promised to ask his gran where Veronica and Albert Standish had ended up after the army requisitioned the village. Melissa couldn’t now unsee Veronica’s eerie expression in the photograph. There was something about it that was bothering her and would do until she knew what had happened to the woman.

      Veronica and Albert had probably gone to London and lived happily ever after, but Melissa just wanted to know now.

      She pulled her laptop out of its case. With any luck, she could connect to the internet and wait the interminably long time for a page to load. One quick search would provide the answer to her short-lived quest to find out where Veronica and Albert Standish had gone.

      While she waited for the laptop to connect with the online world, she went to the kitchen to flick the kettle on. It had been hours since she’d been at Tyneham and so she pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket to check for any messages, but there was still no news from Guy, so she shoved it back again and wandered over to the computer screen.

      Melissa tapped ‘Veronica Standish’ into the search engine. Over 100,000 results appeared and Melissa clapped her hands together in anticipation until she reached page three of the search results and realised absolutely none of them were the Veronica Standish she was looking for. She added ‘1943’ to the search term and a few results appeared, but none of them looked particularly relevant. Then she deleted ‘1943’ and input the word ‘Tyneham’. A mention of Veronica and Albert in reference to the ‘ghost village’ of Tyneham simply listed them as among the two hundred and twenty-five residents who were displaced during the requisition of the Dorset village. There was nothing there that she hadn’t already found out from Guy or from the boards in the church.

      She pulled her phone out to look again. Still nothing from Guy. Melissa clunked it face down on the table and then reached forwards and turned it over so she could see the screen. Just in case.

      With no further information about Albert or Veronica Standish on the website, Melissa was left half wondering if she’d hit a dead end. She searched just for the husband’s name instead. A plethora of information came up.

      ‘Oh, here we go,’ Melissa said, and edged forward on the sofa to look at the results. There were a lot of parliamentary speeches he’d made and she read a few of the summaries. They were dull and mainly about issues related to farming or fishing in Dorset in the war. There were other references to the house and to him and then she found something interesting that she didn’t quite understand in a link to an old newspaper article. In January 1944, Sir Albert Standish had quit as an MP. A by-election had been called and he’d been easily replaced by the looks of things. The newspaper article was short and fairly tedious and Melissa got up to make a cup of tea, feeling strangely disappointed. One month after they had left Tyneham, Albert Standish had stood down as an MP. Perhaps it was a protest at having his home requisitioned. Perhaps it was just a perfectly normal thing to do, quit when you no longer lived in your own constituency. Perhaps Albert and Veronica had gone to live in London after all, happily ever after.

      She sipped her tea and sat back down on Liam’s terribly stylish, uncomfortable sofa. The article was unsatisfying. There was no mention of Veronica, but then why would there have been? If it wasn’t for the fact that Veronica had looked a bit odd in the photograph, Melissa wouldn’t care that there had been no information about the couple on the boards in the church. Perhaps that was just Veronica’s un-photogenic smile and Melissa was barking up the wrong tree. But no, she knew she wasn’t. She wished she’d taken a picture of the photo on her mobile phone. Remembering Veronica’s face, even a few hours later, was difficult, but it had been fear on her face. Veronica looked utterly frightened, that much Melissa could remember.

      Melissa closed the laptop lid and then looked at her phone again. She tapped her fingers on the table and looked around guiltily. Even though she knew she was alone, she was embarrassed by what she was about to do. Melissa reopened the laptop and when the screen lit up, she typed ‘Guy Cameron’ into the internet search engine and waited for the results to load.

      Then, suddenly, the front door opened and Liam walked in, stopping when he saw her.

      ‘Oh, hi, you’re home,’ he said.

      Melissa jumped. ‘I thought you’d still be surfing,’ she blurted.

      ‘Not today no. Too much wine yesterday. Thought a day out of the sun was wise.’

      The wine. The table for two. And where had he been today if not surfing? Melissa took a breath.

      ‘Listen, Liam, I need to talk to you.’

      ‘Why are you looking him up?’ Liam interrupted, moving closer to Melissa’s computer. ‘That bloke off the telly,’ he clarified.

      Melissa was flustered. She’d not seen Liam long enough to even mention Guy to him. She’d spent two days with another man and hadn’t so much as told her boyfriend where she’d been or who with. She realised now it was also because she’d been worried, not wanting to get into an argument. But it wasn’t like Liam had asked either. She felt even guiltier when she realised the two days with Guy were the nicest days she’d had in ages and certainly the best she’d had on this particular holiday.

      Liam nodded towards the computer screen as a row of attractive, smiling press shots of Guy littered the page. ‘He does those boring history programmes on TV.’

      Melissa looked at the screen. ‘Oh, right, yeah. I wouldn’t know. I haven’t watched any.’ She shut the laptop quickly and turned to face him again.

      He shifted from one foot to the other and she dared a question.

      ‘Where have you been today, Liam?’

      It took her boyfriend of eight months a few seconds to respond.

      ‘You’re right.’ He ignored her question, sinking down on the sofa opposite. ‘We do need to talk. This, us, I’m not sure it’s working anymore,’ he said, looking sheepish.

      ‘You’re seeing someone else.’ It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. But the moment she said it, she knew it was the truth.

      ‘Shit.’ Liam reddened. His head shot up to meet her gaze. ‘How do you …?’

      ‘For how long?’ Melissa demanded.

      Liam ran his hand through his hair. ‘Don’t take it personally,’ he started.

      Melissa’s eyes widened. ‘What? What do you mean by that?’

      ‘It’s not you,’ Liam started.

      ‘Are you serious?’ Melissa raised her voice. ‘It’s not you it’s me,’ she mimicked. ‘Exactly how long has this been going on?’ she asked again.

      ‘That’s why you shouldn’t take it personally.’ Liam looked at the floor. ‘A while.’