Conceited ass, Ray thought. At least the broken wrist was a result of recklessness; driving too fast, most likely. If his injury had been caused by some act of derring-do, Ray didn’t think he could have stood it.

Neither Maggie nor the airman seemed to notice as he got up and moved away to an empty bench. He’d had quite enough of being a gooseberry to those two.

‘We don’t often see our nephew here at Snowden,’ Lord Ashford announced, ‘but as soon as he heard we had young ladies in the house, it was surprising how quickly he decided to visit!’

‘And I haven’t been disappointed!’ Jack said, looking directly at Maggie.

* * *

Joseph watched as Jack squeezed in beside Miss Corbett. There was plenty of room elsewhere in the cellar – but he only had eyes for her.

Leonard, Jack’s father, had been the same: a ladies’ man. But Jack’s choice was surprising. Miss Corbett was pretty and dainty – far too clever for him, of course – and a delightful young lady. Young being the operative word. She seemed awfully naive and unworldly. There were other women among the bank staff that, he was certain, were more Jack’s type.

He turned slightly and caught Gwen’s eye. Mrs Nicholls, he should say. A look passed between them. He sensed she’d been watching Jack too.

Gwen was still rather wary of him but each morning, when she brought Joseph his coffee, she lingered a little longer.

He’d managed to eke out of her where she’d been for all these years: Coventry. Not a million miles away. She’d had a husband and when he died, as war broke out – Joseph had thought it indelicate to ask what had happened to him – she’d got work in a uniform factory.

She’d returned to Snowden to care for her widowed mother.

‘I never go into the village,’ Joseph told her. ‘Not been there for years. Too many …’ He stopped himself.

There were too many memories, good and bad. Men he’d served with in France, the village hall, the cricket team, parts of his life that were too painful to recall.

‘Do they still have that thing on the blacksmith’s door?’ he’d asked Gwen one day, as she turned to leave.

‘Oh yes,’ she’d said. ‘They do.’

Another morning, she’d gasped in surprise when she saw Sebastian on Joseph’s desk.

‘Do you remember him?’

‘Of course. That’s Sebastian. I can’t believe you’ve still got him after all these years. He’s looking a little rough round the edges, mind.’

Joseph gave a wry smile. ‘Aren’t we all?’ And then, realising how ungentlemanly that sounded, quickly added, ‘Present company excepted, of course.’

Gwen tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, self-consciously. Her hair had streaks of grey now, her face was thinner. But she was still the same Gwen.