Ray came over to Maggie’s desk, on the pretext of bringing her a stack of papers. On the top page he’d written, Pam’s fiancé MIA. Shot down over France.

Maggie’s stomach lurched. It wasn’t hopeless, of course, but everyone knew what ‘missing in action’ meant. It was almost the very worst news Pam could have had.

What would she say to her later? Words were useless at a time like this. What was the point in saying, ‘He’ll be all right, Pam, you wait and see; he’ll be back,’ because everyone knew, the chances of her ever seeing him again were slim.

She and Pam would never be chums but Maggie felt a deep pang of pity for her. How would she feel if something like that happened to Jack? If she ever got a message to say he was ‘missing in action’? Her stomach swooped away at the thought of it. She simply wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Chapter 38

Maggie put a final double stitch into the hem, pulled the thread taut and bit it off between her teeth. There! Mrs Mason’s overcoat was finished. She held it out and examined at it. Even if she did say so herself, it didn’t look half bad.

Maggie couldn’t wait to give it to her and see her smile, for once.

It would be nice to see someone smile because the mood in the banking hall was gloomy. Within a few days of Pam’s Jim being reported as ‘MIA’, she’d had news from his parents, confirming the worst.

Pam had sobbed into her pillow for a few nights, appeared pale-faced at breakfast, dressed in black and was excused work.

Maggie had summoned up the courage to say, ‘I’m so sorry about Jim. So sorry for your loss, Pam.’

Pam had thanked her. ‘You know, you’re the only one, Maggie, apart from Norm, who’s said that. Everyone else is pussyfooting around me, acting as though nothing’s happened.’

There was no sign of Mrs Mason at breakfast and at lunchtime, when Maggie came into the kitchen to find her. Cook said she still hadn’t turned up.

‘Which ain’t like her at all.’

Gwen was heaving a stack of plates from the cupboard onto the table. She and Maggie exchanged worried glances.

‘Do you think something might have happened? Might she be ill?’ Maggie asked.

Gwen looked as though she was going to say something and then thought better of it.

‘Should we go and check on her? She lives in the village, doesn’t she?’ Maggie said.

Gwen nodded and started to undo her apron strings. ‘I know where she lives,’ she said, giving Cook a questioning look.

‘Go on then, but be quick, mind,’ Cook said.

Mrs Mason lived in a row of narrow golden-stoned terraced houses that had, Gwen told Maggie, once been the home of workers at a nearby mill.