‘Yes, with the Warwicks. God alone knows where. I’ve ’eard from ’im of course but I ’aven’t seen ’im for months. She – ’ she jerked her head towards Daisy – ‘she was the last time. ’E’ll be like a kid when I’ve writ ’im about ’er. Always wanted a little girl.’ She smiled directly at me, and I was startled by the transformation of her face. She had widely spaced front teeth, and her large mouth dominated her face. The pale eyes were full of life. I warmed to her further, to that smile. It lifted me and I smiled back.

‘You got a fella?’ She lifted Daisy and transferred her to her other breast, stroking her little head.

‘I don’t . . . know,’ I said hesitantly. I never usually discussed my private life when I was working and few people would have been bold enough to ask. But Lisa was different. ‘I think he’s dead.’

The smile dropped from her lips. ‘Oh, Kate – you poor thing.’

Her calling me by my name like that, like a friend, brought tears to my eyes. I cried so easily at that time.

‘We had a letter saying he was missing. He’s – he was – in the RAF. His parents have been in touch with the Red Cross for months, of course. We heard nothing for ages. But I’ve been sure, well, almost sure, that he’s dead. I could feel it. Last week they had some more information. He was almost certainly shot down over the sea. They won’t be able to recover his body.’

‘But was it ’im? Are they sure?’

‘No one’s entirely sure. It seems it’s the only thing that could have happened. But his parents can’t accept it – especially his mother. They don’t know whether to hold a service for him or to carry on hoping he might be alive. They’ve aged twenty years, both of them.’ Tears ran down my face which I wiped away hastily. ‘If we had his body we could mourn him properly.’

Lisa watched me in silence, her eyes sad.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, blowing my nose. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this. Very unprofessional. I’m supposed to be here to help you, not carry on like this.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Lisa replied straightforwardly. ‘I don’t think I need any ’elp really.’

I smiled, still sniffing. Daisy looked the picture of contentment. ‘No, you don’t, do you?’ Pushing my unneeded leaflets back into my capacious blue bag, I went to the door. ‘I’ll come back and see you, though. Find out how you’re both doing.’

‘Come whenever you like,’ Lisa said, standing up to open the door. I gestured at her to sit down again. ‘Any time you want a natter, Kate. I’ll be glad to see you. I like a bit of company. And we go back a long way don’t we – sort of?’

In the spring of 1943 Mummy ran into the mother of one of my old school friends, Marjorie Mantel, which of course set them exchanging news about their daughters. Marjorie was soon expected home on leave from the WAAF. A fortnight later I got back from work one evening to find a note waiting for me.