Jill dropped her suitcase on the bed. The room was sparsely furnished, but looked comfortable, and in any case she couldn't afford a better hotel. She felt she could do well enough there; but then she saw the picture above the bed: an old photograph of the seafront at Rhyl.
Rhyl! What on earth was it doing here?
Her first thought was that it had been hung there deliberately: someone was getting at her. Then she realized this was ridiculous: she'd only made the booking yesterday: no-one could possibly have known she would be staying at this hotel. She then tried to laugh it off as an absurd coincidence, without any deeper meaning. An old picture of a seaside resort; a place which had seen better days and was now looking a bit battered. "Just like me!" she thought ruefully.
But even so .........
Why did it have to be Rhyl, of all places? She'd gone there with her parents as a little girl, all those years ago, and they'd met the man who ......
For most of her life she'd been trying to suppress the memory, but now, thanks to that picture, it was surfacing once again.
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