‘Which was St Mary’s church.’

Elizabeth nodded. ‘I was in such an emotional state, torn between the joy at finding my brother and the devastation of leaving the Mandevilles, that I had some sort of breakdown and was admitted to a hospital in London. When the doctors pressed me as to where I had been for five years, I said that I couldn’t remember. After a few weeks, they stopped asking and let me go, putting my loss of memory down to the shock of the air raid and the return of my brother. There were so many genuinely ill and wounded people, and in every respect, I was healthy, so there was little point in my taking up a hospital bed.

‘I went to live with Frank in his small flat in Pimlico. But, Louisa, the world I returned to was foreign to me. It was a world of cars and cinemas and radio and jazz music and aeroplanes. Everyone was rightly happy that the war had ended, but for me, it was still raging. I had lost everything I knew – Hill House, the Mandevilles, Leo – but what right had I to be sad when my brother had been returned to me? Frank was all that kept me sane. He was a wonderful brother, and we helped each other adjust to the new lives we found ourselves thrust into. I never asked him about his time in captivity, and he never asked about my disappearance. It was easier to live in the present than the painful past.’

Tears collected in the corners of Elizabeth’s eyes. Putting her glass aside, she wiped them with her handkerchief.

‘You really don’t have to continue,’ Lou said.

‘I’m old, Louisa. If I don’t tell of it now, I might never get the chance.’ The earlier vigour in Elizabeth’s voice had faded to a whisper. She held up her empty glass. ‘Perhaps another splash will perk me up.’

Lou collected the sherry from the dresser, poured a large measure into Elizabeth’s glass, and left the bottle on the tea trolley.

‘So, Leo received a letter saying that I had married a major?’ Elizabeth said. ‘Well, that wasn’t far from the truth. Soon after I moved into Frank’s flat, an old RAF pal of his came to visit. Monty. He was a lovely man. Impeccable manners. And he had a rather dashing moustache.’ Elizabeth smiled. She took a sip of sherry and brightened a little. ‘He was old-fashioned in his ways, and I found that reassuring. Throughout our courtship, he was so kind and so very patient with me. He made me feel safe and loved.

‘When he proposed, I knew that he would make a wonderful husband. Six months after we married, Monty secured a position in the diplomatic service, and we relocated to India where he was posted. We travelled the world and had our two sons, Michael and David. Wherever we went, I worked with the local Red Cross, helping mothers and their babies. I like to think that I was able to make a difference.