Beth woke with a gasp, sharp and desperate, like she’d just surfaced from drowning.

I was already half-awake, and I felt her body jolt from her sleep beside me, the sheets pulled tight with panic. She curled in on herself, shivering.

“Hey,” I whispered, rolling towards her, touching her arm gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here. It’s me.”

She didn’t speak at first. Just breathed, shallow, half breaths that made her whole frame tremble.

I reached for the bedside lamp, blinking as the warm light spilled across the room. Her eyes were wide, unfocused, like she was still halfway trapped in whatever place she’d just come from.

“The dream?” I queried.

Beth nodded, her voice barely a breath. “It’s always the same,” she whispered.

I knew.

Mine was the same too. Rick, emerging from the dark, all teeth and rage and blood. Beth screaming somewhere behind me. My body frozen, useless. And then… always… the cold grip of his hand just as I tried to run.

“I can’t move,” she murmured. “In the dream, I mean. I can see him, and I know what’s coming, but I can’t… I can’t do anything.”

I swallowed. “I know,” I whispered, pulling her close.

We lay there for a moment in the quiet, the clock ticking gently on the bedside table. The window was cracked open, letting in the soft hush of early summer air. It felt wrong somehow… too peaceful.

“What’s the time?” asked Beth.

“Just gone half seven,” I replied. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

Beth nodded.

As I got up and put on my dressing gown, Beth looked thoughtful.

“Can you pass the memory tin?”

I smiled and took it out of the drawer that had become its home, handing it to her.

I left to make the tea, and on my return, I was greeted to the sight of the entire contents of the tin spread all over the bed.

“Okay…?” I said slowly, grinning at Beth as though she’d lost the plot.

She looked up at me chuckling.

“I was thinking,” she said. “The answer has to be here somewhere… If we’re to get Rick out of our heads, then we need to know why he did what he did. There’s no doubt he did it, but why…? There must be a reason. I mean… I know he’s evil.” Beth shuddered. “But he must have had a reason. He must.”

I thought about it for a while, considering what she’d said.

“I’d like to think so,” I agreed. “But what is it?” Sitting down, looking at the contents strewn all around. “You said everything in the tin was put there by our mum, right?”

“Yes. Pretty much. The only thing I’ve added is her death certificate. Other than that, I’ve added nothing.”

I glanced around the bed.

“Then everything must be there for a reason. If she knew anything, then there must be a clue in here somewhere.”

“I’ve looked through the photos so many times,” Beth replied. “But I’ve never found anything.”

I thought for a while.

“The thing is, it’s not that we don’t know the answer… It’s worse than that,” I said quietly. “We don’t even know the questions.”

Beth nodded, her eyes moving slowly over the contents of the bed, thinking.

“Well, I’d like to know why mum was murdered,” she said at last. “Not just who by. There has to be a reason.”

She fell silent, her gaze drifting to our mum’s wedding photo. She picked it up gently, her thumb brushing the edge.

“And I’d like to know if this is our dad,” she added. “He looks nice.”

I stared at the black and white picture. A crowd gathered outside a small stone church, confetti caught mid-air. Our mum looked radiant, no older than we were now.

Beth turned it over. On the back, written in biro, were the words: St David’s Church, 16th June 1961.

“Wow,” I murmured. “Mum had only just turned sixteen.”

I frowned at the date again. Sixteen. I knew it wasn’t unheard of back then, but it still felt… young.

“Maybe the church is a clue,” I said slowly.

A quick check of the phone book confirmed there were two churches called St David’s nearby. One in Shenley Green, the other in Highgate.

“It’s somewhere to start,” I said.

Beth nodded. “Yes. It is.”

I made a note of the addresses on a piece of paper.

Looking around the bed, for the first time I noticed a small square inconspicuous brown box.

“What’s that?”

Beth picked the box up, smiling. The lid was hinged on one side. It was an old-fashioned ring box. She opened it and held the contents up for me to extract.

Inside were two gold rings. The first, an engagement ring. Dainty, with a thin dark gold band, encrusted with a single diamond set in a heart shaped mount. As she held it up to the light it sparkled and glistened. I pulled the curtains open to let the sunshine in and the ring caught the sunlight, scattering it in tiny flashes across the room.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Try it on,” suggested Beth.

“Oh… I can’t,” I objected, a lump tightening in my throat. “It doesn’t feel right. Like it belongs to you, not me.”

“Why not? She was your mum too,” said Beth, softly, gentle.

I hesitated, my fingers trembling as I slid the ring onto my index finger, testing it, as though I had no right to wear it properly. Beth shook her head, took the ring from me and slipped it onto my wedding finger instead. The cool metal settled against my skin as if it had always been meant for me. That thought made me feel like a fraud, yet the fit was undeniable.

Beth smiled, a glint of pride in her eyes.

“It’s a little loose on me,” she said. “You’ve got fatter fingers,” she added with a laugh, grounding the moment.

I laughed too, grateful for the release. “You’re catching me up. It’s all those sausage sandwiches.”

She laughed again and reached for the other ring in the box.

The second ring was a simple gold band, a wedding ring. Once more, quite dainty, certainly designed for a woman. As I inspected it, I noticed an engraving along the inside of the ring, ‘Love is Flame.’

One came with thunder, one with flame,
The years between, not quite the same.
From me to you, two paths unfold,
One marked in silver, one in gold.

Some things we carry, some things we hear,
A whisper of truth through crackle and fear.
Where music still plays and memories stay,
Look not at the sound, but what lies in its sway.

The key you seek lies not in this rhyme,
But inked where the ledger remembers time.
Letters may hide in numbers proud,
But not every sum needs naming aloud.

If ever you're lost or chasing a thread,
Let this guide you to what lies ahead.
The second will guide you, the first may mislead,
Count not the years, but the time in between.

“That’s beautiful,” I said.

Beth smiled, that lovely warm smile she gave when remembering her most precious moments. Then, as I watched, her face changed.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “I’ve just realised, that poem… it’s about us!”

I looked at the piece of paper again.

“That first bit, it’s you and me,” said Beth, her voice full of excitement. “It’s only just dawned on me. I’ve read that so many times, but I never knew,” a huge smile lighting up her face.

She took the piece of paper off me carefully and read it once more.

“I’ve no idea what the rest of it means, but now I love it even more.”

We drank our tea, and Beth tidied up the bed, carefully putting everything back into the tin and placing it lovingly back in the drawer.

“Listen,” I said. “How about we get it framed. Then we can put it on the wall and see it every day?”

Beth smiled, but not fully.

“Not a good idea?” I queried.

Beth’s smile widened a little, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yes… I’d like that.”

“But…?”

“It doesn’t feel right taking it out of the tin,” she insisted.

I nodded. I understood entirely. This tin had been Beth’s life, her salvation, the one safe place she’d ever had. Splitting it up wouldn’t feel right.

“Well, how about we get some nice paper and write it out, and frame that?” I suggested. “That way we can see the words every day but not disturb the tin.”

Beth’s eyes brightened. “Yes. I like that.”

After a quick chat we decided to go down the village and buy a frame. We dressed and went through to the living room. Mum was surprised to see us.

“Oh my word. What on earth are you two doing up at this time of day, let alone dressed?”

We told her our plans as we put our shoes on.

It wasn’t long before we were in the village, walking along New Road, the main street lined with rows of shops on either side. Even though it was early, there were shoppers everywhere.

We stopped outside Roy’s Toys.

“I used to love going in there as a kid,” said Beth.

I stared at her, surprised. “Me too. Every Saturday nearly. How did we never meet?”

Beth grinned. “Come on, let’s go in.”

The bell above the door jingled as we stepped inside. The air smelled faintly of dust and cardboard, the same as it had when I was little.

“I always wanted one of these,” Beth said, lifting a boxed train set from the shelf.

“Same here,” I laughed. “Mum always said they were for boys.”

We lingered over a display of miniature fashion dolls, each wearing bright, slightly tacky dresses.

“You’d have redesigned all of these,” Beth teased.

“Of course. They’re a crime against fashion.”

When we stepped back out into the sunlight, still smiling, we strolled on.

Two doors down, we passed the only vacant shop on the street.

“Shame,” I murmured, peering in. “It’s been empty for a couple of years now. I always thought it would make a great dress shop… sell my designs and a few other bits.”

We passed the Village Kitchen café, and the air changed instantly. The comforting, unmistakable smell of proper breakfasts rolled out every time the door opened, bacon, coffee, toast and something buttery I couldn’t quite place.

We moved on to the framing shop, its windows full of neatly displayed pictures in every size and style. Inside, the smell of fresh-cut wood and paper hung in the air.

Eventually we chose one with a warm oak finish that would suit the poem perfectly.

“They’ve got art papers too,” Beth pointed out, leading me to a rack where thick sheets in every shade and texture were stacked.

At the counter, the woman wrapped our purchases in brown paper and string.

We made our way back home slowly, the bag swinging between us, talking idly about where the poem might hang, and what colour ink would look best against the cream paper.

Little did I know how significant this morning would be.