He nodded, understanding but not happy about it, as she was not happy about it.

Aware of how difficult all the enormous changes in his life must be for him, she was just about to comfort him by telling him of how he would soon be making lots of new friends, when he said suddenly, ‘There’s a soldier coming towards us, Aunt Vicky.’

Vicky turned her head. A handsome broad-shouldered man in an officer’s uniform was making a beeline towards them.

‘Vicky Hudson! It is Vicky Hudson, isn’t it?’ he said in an attractively deep voice as he came to a halt by their table.

‘It’s Vicky Remer now. I’m sorry, I—’

‘Adam Priestley.’ He took his cap off, revealing unforgettable flame-red hair as curly as a ram’s fleece. ‘We met once or twice a few years ago at tennis parties.’

Vicky’s smile lit up her face. ‘Of course! How nice of you to come across and introduce yourself.’ She looked from Adam to Paul. ‘Paul, this is the gentleman who sent you your bicycle—and who used to go to St Dunstan’s when he was your age.’

‘And how old is that?’ Adam Priestley asked Paul.

‘Ten, sir.’ Paul was pink with pride at being spoken to in public by an army officer. ‘And thank you for the bicycle. It’s super.’

‘My pleasure, young man.’

‘Are you a captain, sir? Or a colonel?’

Adam Priestley’s mouth tugged into a smile. ‘Neither yet, Paul. I’m a lieutenant.’

‘With what regiment?’ Paul asked, too unfamiliar with British regiments to be able to tell from Adam Priestley’s cap badge.

‘The Alexandra Princess of Wales’s own Yorkshire Regiment.’

‘Won’t you sit down and join us?’ Vicky asked, aware that Adam was enjoying his conversation with Paul almost as much as Paul was.

‘I’d love to, but I’m on my way to meet my wife from the York train.’

Though he didn’t sit down he still made no move to leave. ‘And are you about to become a St Dunstan’s boy?’ he asked Paul.

If Paul had had even the faintest shred of doubt about attending St Dunstan’s, he had it no longer. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said eagerly. ‘I’ve just been accepted. I’m to start next week.’

‘Congratulations. You’ll enjoy the rugger. I did. It’s a splendid game.’

He turned his attention back to Vicky. ‘It’s been nice running into you again, Vicky. Let me know how Paul gets on at St Dunstan’s. Perhaps when I’m back from France I’ll be able to watch him play for the school.’

‘You’re going to France? To the Front?’ For Vicky, the happy carefree atmosphere was wiped out at a stroke.

‘Of course.’ He quirked an eyebrow quizzically. ‘We can’t let the Germans take Paris, can we? Give my regards to your father. And make sure this young man has a decent pair of rugby boots in his kit when you send him off to school.’

‘Gosh,’ Paul said, watching in wide-eyed admiration as Adam Priestley took his leave of them. ‘Do you think he’ll come back a hero? With a medal?’