They found it years before, when their kids were still young, buried at the bottom of the garden: a rusted chocolate fingers tin. Inside, wrapped carefully in a silk scarf: a lock of hair, two peacock feathers tied in a simple knot, a photograph of a holidaying couple, torn apart then reassembled with sticky tape, an old British pound note, a dried rose and a lottery ticket, “PLEASE HELP ME, I AM LOST” scrawled roughly on the back.
Then years later, looking at honeymoon photos from their son, recognition flickered and a cold dread began to fill their stomachs.
