‘Oh, love,’ he said, stroking her back. ‘Oh, I’ve been dying to do this: to hold on to you for – well, forever! That’s it, love – I’m back now. Don’t cry, there’s a girl.’

Em collected herself and took his hand, dragging him into the house.

‘Watch it – there’s my bag!’ He picked up the kitbag and then all the family were coming to greet him, Bob slapping him on the back and saying, ‘Welcome home, son’, Violet shyly saying hello, Cynthia kissing him and exclaiming at how he’d filled out, how she’d never’ve recognized him.

‘I thought they’d sent us the wrong fella,’ Em laughed through her tears. ‘Let’s have a proper look at you.’

Norm stood straight and tall in the back room as they all looked him over. In the more than three years he had been away, the gangly youth Em had married had filled out and turned into a man – and, Em saw, a more handsome one than when he left. His shoulders were broad and muscular, and while he was still slender, he looked strong and stood upright. Even the ‘car-doors’ ears, as Sid used to call them, looked slightly less comical now, because his face was fuller, the jaw seeming more pronounced. And he looked tanned and healthy.

‘My, my,’ Cynthia said admiringly. ‘Well, I can’t say it looks as if it’s done you any harm – look at you! Anyroad, let’s all stop gawping at him and give the poor lad a bite to eat. Not that there’s much to go on – that’ll be a shock to you,’ she added.

‘What about Robbie?’ Norm said. He took Em’s hand again, couldn’t seem to stop touching her.

‘He’s asleep.’ She looked up at him, clinging to him too, still drinking in the sight. She was still almost unable to believe he was here. ‘D’you want to come up and see him?’

‘Nothing’d stop me,’ Norm said. ‘Hang on a sec . . .’ He crouched down. ‘I’ll take these bleeding shoes off first. I got them in the demob and they squeak like hell.’

Still holding hands, Em going first, the two of them crept up the stairs in their stockinged feet. She pulled him into the room where Robbie slept in her bed, and they left the door open so that some light could spill through.

‘I should’ve brought a candle,’ she whispered.

But they could make out a shadowy Robbie, curled on his right side facing them, one hand under his plump cheek and fast asleep.

Norm bent down. ‘Hello, son . . . Oh, look at him, Em – oh God, he’s lovely . . . I’d best not wake him, but . . .’ He stopped. Em could see that he was moved and she burned with pride that she had carried Robbie and brought him to life and looked after him this far, so that her husband could come home and find him safe and beautiful and asleep.