Taking a short detour, she walked along to the house where she had been lodged with Cath and a group of other ATS on ack-ack training. She stood across the road, staring. There it was, just the same, with its wrought-iron railings at the front. A piece of deep-blue carpet was draped over them. Otherwise it looked much the same, though it now seemed to be back in business as a hotel. Any minute, Molly expected Ann or Nora or Cath to come bouncing out of the door and wave across at her. But no, those days were over. All gone.

Walking along in the sunshine, Molly’s spirits began to sink and she was filled with an aching loneliness. Although it was only a matter of days, it seemed a lifetime ago that she had said goodbye to Cath and the others. Was this her life now? For the first time she questioned her decision to come back to Clacton. She saw herself staying here, in this place where she knew no one, cooking and cleaning in the dark guesthouse for the rest of her days. The future looked very bleak and full of boredom. For the first time in a long time, she found herself longing for a drink when it was only half past eleven in the morning.

‘You know,’ Mrs Lester told her as they unpacked the shopping, which Molly had carried home with aching arms, forcing back the tears that were threatening to come. ‘Apart from those years of the war, I’ve lived in this house all my life.’

Molly realized how happy Mrs Lester was to have someone to talk to, and she wasn’t sorry herself. It was a way of taking her mind off her dismal thoughts today. Apart from her employer, she realized with another stab of gloom, there was no one else at all here that she could talk to.

‘Have you, Mrs Lester?’ she asked, surprised.

‘Oh yes.’ Mrs Lester turned, with a packet of flour in her hand, blushing a little. ‘I should rather like it if you called me by my Christian name – after all, that is why we are given them! It’s Jane.’

‘All right then,’ Molly said awkwardly. They exchanged faint smiles.

‘But, yes, my late parents ran this establishment for years, and then my father departed this life, and Mother and I continued as Father would have wanted. He was a very devoted Christian man.’ She stopped unpacking the groceries and looked ahead of her. ‘You see, you never know what the Lord has in store. When the war came and the army requisitioned a lot of our guesthouses and hotels, it seemed to us the greatest disaster. You can imagine, I expect. We had to get out and go somewhere. Clacton was overrun with barbed wire and khaki uniforms, or so it seemed to us. So we went to Mother’s sister in Hendon – hardly safer really, but there was no choice. It was all too much for Mother in the end . . . she suffered with her nerves; I’m afraid I’m rather like her. But a chill turned to pneumonia. My poor, dear mother is buried in Hendon, but at least I have the comfort of knowing she’s near her sister. But while we were there, I was attending the chapel of course, as I do, and there I met Mr Lester.’ She smiled a realistic smile at Molly. ‘I never thought I should be able to marry . . . And Mr Lester is so on fire with the Lord – he could see that this work would be an opportunity to evangelize, as well as to earn our living. He’s so brave a man. He has a cleft palate, you see – from birth. But it never stops him trying to share the Good News.’