'Oh — that's terrible!'
I looked up to find Dave with a look of genuine sadness in his eyes.
'And you never found out what happened to her?' he asked.
'No,' I said.
'But now that you are in Cornwall?'
I shook my head. 'No,' I told him. 'Let the past lie buried. He wouldn't have wanted me to try to find out. He may have been a drunk, but I loved him.'
That secret smile was back on Dave's lips. But this time it was different. It was as though he was really amused at something. 'Maybe the past will not lie buried.'
'What do you mean?' I asked.
He shrugged his shoulders and handed back the faded print.
After that we sat in silence for a long while. Outside the rain swept across the waste of mine workings in a leaden curtain and the grey light glistened on the piled-up mounds of slag. At length Dave got up and sniffed at the weather. 'It'll clear up after midday,' he said. 'You'll be able to start out then. Our ways part from here.'