‘See, it wasn’t his fault, what happened . . .’ She looked towards the window, her face full of pain. She seemed smaller suddenly, Em realized. In that moment she could see how her mother was going to look as an old lady.

‘It wasn’t yours, either, Mom.’ Em felt as if her chest was going to tear open as the grief of it all rushed back to her. ‘You were just poorly, that’s all.’

Cynthia turned to her, eyes welling. ‘I know. But I always felt I should have been able to help it, to stop it. And leaving you and the others . . .’ She put her hand over her mouth and shook her head for a moment, then reached for a knife to spread margarine on the bread. ‘Bob’s a man – he didn’t know what to do . . .’

‘Mom.’ Em couldn’t stand any more. She went and took the knife off Cynthia. ‘You sit down – I’ll do this. Look, we’ll go and see Dad this afternoon.’ Her words came out in a rush. ‘Don’t go over it all. We’ve been all right, haven’t we? Don’t make a rod to beat yourself.’

Cynthia looked up at her and bravely pulled herself together, even managing a smile. ‘All right, love. Yes – you’re right. Let’s talk about something else. You heard from Molly?’

Em pulled the corners of her mouth down. ‘Not for months. I had a card, from Skeggy – she was at another of them camps, working, I s’pose.’

Cynthia took a mouthful of bread, resting her elbows on the table, frowning a little.

‘She does seem to drift, that one.’

‘Yes,’ Em said sadly. ‘I don’t know what she’s thinking of, really. I thought she was going to get on all right – in the war and that. But now . . .’

Cynthia shook her head. ‘Poor Molly.’

That afternoon they found Bob looking a bit brighter.

‘He’s trying to say more,’ the nurse told them when they arrived. ‘And I think there’s a bit more feeling in his hand.’

Encouraged, they went to his bedside, finding that he had been moved a bit further along the ward. As they approached, Em saw him catch sight of them and recognize them. He raised his right arm, the good one, in greeting.

‘Hello, love,’ Cynthia said softly, leaning to kiss his cheek. He was propped up on pillows, looked clean and had been shaved, but his face seemed sunken and had not yet regained its normal colour. He tried to say something in reply, but could not manage the words and looked stricken when all that came out was a kind of groan.

‘Never mind,’ Cynthia said. ‘It’ll get better – you just wait and see. Look, we’ve brought you a couple of bananas, love – those’ll do you good.’

Em smiled at him, but Bob laid his head back against the pillow suddenly, as if he was already worn out. They told him little bits of news, though there was not much to tell. It soon became clear that he was very tired and started to doze as they sat with him, his mouth dropping open.