Craig had braved the cold winds for an hour as he scanned the sea from the cliff tops for any interesting birds which may have been blown in towards the shore. It had proved unproductive and he decided to take shelter behind a dense group of Hawthorne trees growing precariously on the cliff edge, their growth form bent permanently landwards, shaped by the prevailing winds over the years.

He sat behind them, scribbling lists of birds identified, into his notebook, before turning his attention to the clump of trees, perhaps small birds could be sheltering amongst them. Hidden amongst the trees he could make out a large rock, which fascinated him. Erratics like these littered the local countryside, left behind by retreating glaciers, but what a position this was in. Before the Hawthorne trees had grown it would have been a fantastic place to have sat and gazed out over the sea. He began to imagine who may have sat there and he had a sudden desire to reach it. 

It was a difficult scramble, the trees were packed so closely together, it was hard to find a space wide enough to squeeze through, and where it was just possible, undergrowth covered with thorns and spikes blocked the way. Craig’s determination won through, scratched, and extremely muddy he reached the rock and he raised himself off his belly to his knees. The incentive for this struggle was the speculation that if people had indeed sat on this rock in the past, looking out to sea, full of their thoughts, then some evidence may remain as items fallen out of their pockets and now buried in the soil around the rock. Craig’s passion for local history was as great as his love of ornithology, what a great day this was turning out to be. 

Using his penknife and suitably shaped stones, he began to scrape away at the earth and sure enough coins began to appear. An old 1915 penny, an 1881 silver sixpence, then a 1936 halfpenny. This was a treasure trove for Craig, the thrill of these discoveries was tremendous. He continues and after a little more time he uncovered a 1941 threepenny bit. He did not wish to stop but rain clouds had blown in and the tree cover was not preventing him from becoming drenched. He would return another day for further investigations and he pushed the soil that he had unearthed back into place. Something suddenly caught his eye, a clump of soil had broken open and a piece of silver chain was exposed. Carefully he removed what appeared to be a locket, which he put into his pocket for detailed examination later.

Back home he took out his finds and cleaned each one, he was especially excited to examine the locket. To his amazement, it opened revealing photos of a young man and women. Every day he would open the locket and look at the photos, this young couple became part of him, and he longed to know more about them. Assuming they were local, he decided to publicise their photos in the local press, village shop and parish magazine with a photo of the locket in the hope it would stimulate a memory. Craig carefully removed the photos for enlargement and to his astonishment a small piece of folded paper fell out from behind the young man’s photo. Craig gently unfolded it and read the beautifully written sentiment.
I am yours, no matter how far
Forever and Always
Don
December 1943

The photos and message were left by Craig wherever he could locally, including noticeboards, telegraph poles, in fact anywhere where he could attach an A4 flier. It soon became a feature of local interest, a talking point in the village shop, café, and within local interest groups, especially the Women’s Institute who devoted a whole meeting to it. 

Craig became a local celebrity, invited to talk to several diverse groups and interviews with the local papers. This was a dilemma for Craig, he would have to reveal the site of the rock which he would have like to have kept to himself, he wanted to investigate it further. But local history groups may investigate it more effectively, if they were interested, and he was aware finds should be reported. He came clean with the whole story and no one asked for the four coins.
It had been two weeks, Craig was waking up over his morning cup of tea when the phone rang. It was a journalist, introducing herself as Jane, who had been running the story in a local newspaper. “I think we have a lead for you,” she announced, and so followed a three-hour drive with the journalist to the family in question. They were greeted by a smartly dressed mature lady, perhaps in her sixties who invited them in. “Thank you so much for coming down,” she said, warmly greeting both with such sincerity. “I am Gillian and this is my mother Margaret.” An older lady was sat in a chair and she had some difficulty getting up. “Please don’t get up,” Craig insisted, but she was determined to stand and shake their hands. She grabbed hold of Craig’s hand firmly, not letting go. “Are you the one who found the locket?” she asked. “Yes” replied Craig smiling, tears came to her eyes “the picture is of my brother Don, Don Howarth” she announced. “The beautiful girl was his sweetheart, Mary Burrows,” Margaret continued, still holding Craig’s hand firmly. They all sat down and listened whilst Margaret how Don and Mary were childhood sweethearts from the same village. They were planning to marry when the war was over but Don, a Lancaster Bomber pilot was shot down and killed on a raid over Nuremberg in March 1944, he was just 22.

An old friend of Margaret’s, still living in the same village where they all grew up had seen the photos in the local paper and contacted her, she had remembered Dons face especially, as they had all mourned him when he was killed. He had been a popular lad in the village, willing to help anyone and always brandishing a smile. 

With the story suddenly coming to life, they had to trace Mary Burrows, she could well have married and moved out of the village, but the name was a good start. The budding young journalist was keen to start, not only was this a great story for her and the paper but she loved this type of research. “Whether she is still alive or passed away I will find her,” she told Craig confidently “and as soon as I do I will call you, I won’t make any contact without you, even if it is to a gravestone,” she promised. 

Two days later, true to her promise, she called Craig,” I have found her, and great news, she is still alive and living in a nursing home 20 miles away from the village.”  They went the same day and were shown to Mary’s room, “She is 94 years old and gets confused sometimes, but she can be as bright as a button” a nurse explained.

“Here are your guests” the nurse announced to Mary, as Craig and Jane entered. Craig showed Mary the locket and the photos that he had enlarged, hoping that it would stimulate some memories. He had no need to worry, she clasped the locket to her heart and closed her eyes tightly. Craig stared at her waiting, she seemed lost in thought. It seemed an eternity, Craig looked at Jane who shrugged her shoulders. “Are you OK?” Craig enquired, Mary breathed in and opened her eyes. She smiled “Thank you for bringing me this, it has taken me back to a girl again. I remember the day Don gave me this, and the day I lost it. I had been told that he had been killed in action and I went to our rock where we had spent many happy hours together looking out over the sea and making plans. I sat there for hours crying and holding the locket, it wasn’t until I got home that I realised it was missing. I did go back days later and look for it, and now I have it after all those years, yet it seems like yesterday. You have made me so happy.” She held Craig’s hand as she drifted back into her thoughts.
A week later Craig’s phone rang, it was the nurse from the nursing home. “I thought you would like to know, Mary died peacefully in her sleep during the night, when we found her she was clasping the locket, she looked to be smiling”