In a pile of papers from a life well lived lay a card that could easily have been discarded, but something about the envelope made 82-year-old Gold Coast resident Jan Drury (nee Moore) look inside.
"I was starting to shred things and I thought I don't need this and I don't need that," Mrs Drury said.
Dated December 1967, inside the slightly yellowed paper exterior was a Christmas card from her then boss — Australia's 17th prime minister, Harold Holt.
"And he signed that about a week before he died, and I thought, this is some sort of history," Mrs Drury said.
On December 17, 1967, in arguably the most enduring political mystery in Australian history, the nation's then prime minister, Harold Holt, waded out into the sea for a swim at Cheviot Beach, near Portsea in Victoria, and never returned.
The sudden disappearance of a sitting prime minister became etched into the national consciousness.
Then aged 26, Mrs Drury had been Mr Holt's secretary for more than three years, after joining his office when he was the federal treasurer.
She recalls the feeling among Mr Holt's personal staff on that fateful Sunday was one of sadness — conspiracy theories, which soon abounded, had not entered their minds.
"It was extremely sad, we couldn't believe that a prime minister could go missing like that," she said.
"There were all sorts of theories. Did the Japanese come in with a submarine and take him?"
Mr Holt, a keen swimmer and spearfisherman, had gone for a swim with a friend around noon along a remote stretch of Victorian coastline at Cheviot Beach.
The disappearance of the incumbent prime minister sparked an extensive air and sea search, but it was hampered by heavy seas, and while efforts resumed the following day, few expected Mr Holt would be found alive.
"It is feared the prime minister has drowned," television sets and radios reported solemnly, as stunned families around the country prepared for Christmas festivities.
More than half a century on, Mrs Drury still finds herself asking questions: Why didn't Mr Holt have guards watching him and why did he wear sandshoes into the water rather than flippers?
"There were so many rumours and, of course, the reality was, as Zara [his wife] said, he didn't have his flippers on and he couldn't get himself out," she said.
"And there was no evidence because obviously the fish or the sharks did eat the body."
Life as the prime minister's secretary had its highs and lows — from eating freshly caught abalone, cooked by the prime minister himself, to seeking safety from anti-war protesters.
Mrs Drury remembers the federal election campaign of 1966 and the anti-Vietnam War campaign when the prime minister's car was rocked by protesters in Sydney's Martin Place.
Mr Holt managed to get inside the car but Mrs Drury, who was caught outside, had to be pulled through the passenger window to safety.
"Yes, it was pretty scary, it really was," she said.
"They had the right to protest, as long as it was safe for everyone."
As for the Christmas wishes of 1967?
"I don't think it should be archived, nobody would ever see it," she said.
"But what do you do with something like that?"
You tell your story.
Actually, it's become one of the many stories the octogenarian tells her carers who visit her Currumbin Waters home each day.
