Molly looked down at the case and khaki kitbag. In that split second she knew she was making a crucial decision. If she took all her luggage north to the Midlands, she knew somehow that she was opting for that – to go home to Brum. And her whole being rebelled against this. What was there in Birmingham for her. Her mother? God alone knew what state she’d be in by now. And the ghost of her brother, hanged by the neck, as well as the ghosts of her own childhood. Oh no, thanks very much, she thought.

‘I’ll only take overnight stuff up there,’ she said. ‘The rest can stay here.’

She saw Cath and Orla look at each other.

‘But, Molly . . .’ Cath began. She was going to ask once again: What are you going to do?

‘I don’t know,’ Molly snapped, before Cath even got the words out.

Their company distracted her from her thoughts for the next few hours. On arrival in Birmingham they were met by an army truck, which took them south again to Wythall, where they saw the huts of what looked like an army camp, but was in fact the exit door from the army. Molly found it all comforting, as she found all the orderly ways of the army comforting. They were given a meal and a bed and told to sort out what kit was to be handed in and what they were keeping. The next morning was a rush of activity, as the staff seemed to want to shift them through as fast as possible. They had to hand in their kit and be issued with their demob book, railway warrants and clothing coupons.

And then it really was over. Molly travelled back with the others to New Street Station to say goodbye to Cath and Orla, who were going straight back to London. Already everything felt strange, each of them squeezed into old civilian clothes that they had outgrown in every way. Molly’s skirt felt uncomfortably tight round the waistband. None of them had yet had time to take their coupons and choose new ones. In the busy, echoing station, Cath hugged Molly warmly and looked at her in a worried way.

‘Where are you going to go, Molly?’

Molly smiled bravely. ‘Tonight I’m going to go and see a pal of mine. After that – I don’t know. I’ll keep you posted. Now’ – her voice was turning gruff with coming tears – ‘go on, the pair of yer, sod off or you’ll miss it. You take care of each other.’

‘We will!’ they laughed, and they all hugged again and said TTFN, not somehow able to bear the word ‘goodbye’, and tried – not very successfully in Cath and Orla’s case – not to cry. Then the two of them boarded their train, waving until it gathered speed along the platform and Molly couldn’t see their tearful faces any more.

Only then did the great well of sadness waiting inside her reach up into her eyes.