‘B-but we were goin’ to be wed soon as the war ended,’ Ivy said brokenly and now Holly was crying too and so was Cook. Marcus had been such a lovely young man and he and Ivy might have been made for each other. It all seemed so pointless, such a senseless waste of a young life, but then they were all aware that Marcus was only one of thousands who had fallen. Every day countless other families were receiving the same awful telegrams and all across the country people were grieving for their loved ones.

Emma stood there helplessly, fiddling with her gloves. Giving Ivy such terrible news was one of the worst things she had ever had to do but Walter had been in no fit state to do it so the difficult job had fallen to her. Like Ivy, Walter was totally heartbroken, Marcus had been his only son and she feared her husband would never get over his loss. ‘I, er … ought to be getting back now,’ she said apologetically. ‘I should be there for Walter and the girls …’

‘Of course you should. You go,’ Holly told her understandingly. ‘We’ll look after Ivy.’ And so after kissing her daughter on the cheek, Emma hurried back outside to the carriage that was waiting for her.

For the next few days Ivy hid herself away in her room, refusing to eat or drink. Even her little daughter could not lift the cloud of grief she was under, so Holly took care of Alice as she and the rest of them crept around the house like ghosts. On Sunday a memorial service was held for Marcus at Chilvers Coton Church and Ivy attended, standing straight-backed with her eyes looking ahead throughout the service. She hadn’t cried once since immediately after receiving the dreadful news as far as any of them knew.

It was Cook who expressed her concerns three days before Holly was due to go back to France.

‘How am I goin’ to cope at my age wi’ the little ’un all on my own when you’ve gone?’ she asked worriedly, nodding towards Alice who was sitting at the kitchen table playing with a leftover piece of pastry from the apple pie Cook had just put in the oven. ‘I’m already tryin’ to do Ivy’s jobs as well as my own.’

Holly could understand her point. Up to now they had pussy-footed around Ivy allowing her to grieve but perhaps it was time to rouse her out of her state of inertia, no matter how unkind it might seem in the short-term.

‘Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can do,’ she promised and later that morning she carried a tea tray up to Ivy’s room and rapped on the door. ‘Ivy, I have some tea and biscuits here for you.’

‘I’m not hungry … take them away.’

Holly took a deep breath. This had gone on for quite long enough and if Ivy wasn’t careful it would be her that was ill next. Drawing herself up to her full height she opened the door and barged into the room to find Ivy lying on her bed staring at the ceiling.