‘Oh,’ he cried, pink cheeks bunching into a smile. ‘How simply marvellous! So you’re – Is it . . .? Who’s . . .?’ He stopped, all confused. ‘I’m sorry. I remember. When we saw you at the party, your – intended was missing, wasn’t he? Did he . . .?’

I looked down at my lap. The pain of Angus’s death sliced through me so suddenly, so overwhelmingly sometimes. For a moment I could barely speak. Then I managed to say, ‘No. I’m married to someone else. Douglas Craven. He was at your party too.’

Roland frowned.

‘Journalist. The one with the gammy leg.’

‘Ah yes. I think I recall. I didn’t know him at all actually, but one couldn’t help noticing. But he can work all right?’

‘On the Mail.’

‘Marvellous. Well, congratulations all round then. Here, tuck in – do.’

He poured tea into the Thermos cup, and I found something reassuring, comforting even, about the way he lifted the flask, the cups – one big, one smaller – so carefully with his immaculate, white-nailed fingers. ‘You go first.’

After a few sips I handed it back. ‘Roland, your brother was missing too, wasn’t he?’

The chubby face folded immediately into lines of misery. It was like watching a clown, except the emotion was real.

‘We lost Edward as well, I’m afraid. He was RAF, of course. We’re still not sure precisely what happened. It was all during the fiasco in Singapore. Don’t suppose we ever shall know exactly now.’

‘It was the same with Angus,’ I said. ‘They think he was shot down over the sea near Sumatra. That’s the most information we ever had. His mother pursued it for months.’ I watched Roland. He seemed so bereft that I touched his hand for a second. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s absolutely awful, isn’t it?’

Roland nodded silently.

‘When Angus was missing I felt as if everything ought to stop. That I couldn’t go on until I knew for sure. But you just had to go on, didn’t you? No choice in the matter. It was very brave of you both to have that party then. I admired you for that.’

‘Did you?’ He turned to look directly at me. ‘It was the last blasted thing I felt like doing, I can tell you. Excuse me, Kate.’ I waved aside the apology. ‘My family is very that way you know, stiff upper lip, keep the home fires burning and all that. Edward was as well. Not me I’m afraid. Never been very good at it.’ He gave a half smile. ‘I adored Edward. He was five years older than me and I knew from when I was a tiny child that I could never possibly be like him. He was all the things I’d have liked to be. But he was very good to me – sort of looked out for me.’ He stopped. ‘I’m boring you, or worse, embarrassing you?’

‘Not at all. Please go on.’