She held the first one from 1928 until 1934; after six years it was full. Plain and unblemished with Chamberlain’s name on the inside front cover it represented optimistic opportunities. By the time each page had been bruised and beautified with red, black and purple smudges it was proof of triumph.

The second one bore Eden’s name and ran for a full ten years until 1948. Both blue and embossed with a gold lion and unicorn completed by Latin text there was nothing mythical about these historical, geographical stamped stories. If there were times in that decade when travel was treacherous and funds were sparse they weren’t reflected in these documents.

Chile 1938
Lebanon 1941
Union of South Africa 1944

To the curious observer or customs official she might have been a diplomat, a screen legend or a spy to have registered at so many destinations. In fact she was the daughter of Lithuanian immigrants. She had left school aged thirteen, unable to realise her dream of becoming a teacher, and aged seventeen became a wife whose handsome husband had proved to be a feckless chancer forcing her into the role of family provider.

Her passports held proof of her second choice dreams; not the dreams of faraway places or romantic moonlit moments but of freedom, achievement, self-confidence.

When her neighbours had come to introduce themselves she’d seen the husband sneaking a look at her passport. Others might have been offended at the intrusion but to her the covert interest was as exciting as the double take she’d had from the ship’s captain when he’d walked by her cabin port hole as she’d used the last of the day’s light to paint her face before dinner.