When VE and I heard that Jack Charlton was at the reception in Cardiff we made it our business to track him down.
He said that he remembered meeting her, and her teddy, on the train years earlier, but I didn’t believe him. I also could not be sure that he had any recollection of the American tourists to whom he pointed out Holy Island from the East Coast line.
It soon became obvious that he was agreeing with anything that we suggested as a strategy to shake us off as fast as possible. I could tell that he had no interest in talking to us when he made a beeline for someone else, dumping me with a stranger.
