This suspicion had been proved correct during the dangerous crossing to England, for once out of reach of loving but smothering parents, she’d started to blossom. The transformation had been completed during her time at Beach View, and when she’d left to work for the MOD on some secret assignment, she was a fully-fledged, bright young girl ready to take on the world.

Sarah felt a wave of deep affection wash over her. ‘You’ve come a very long way since Malaya, Jane, and I’m so proud of you. But since when did you become so determined and resourceful?’

‘Since I joined the MOD and learned how to get around things from the best brains in this country.’ She smiled and looked into Sarah’s eyes. ‘Try to stop worrying about everything, Sarah. We’re doing this journey together, and together we’ll meet whatever waits for us and deal with it. Now put your lipstick on and smile. We have a party to go to.’

New orders * not home for Christmas * letter to follow * Jim

Peggy was on the point of fainting as she read the telegram again, and she only just managed to stumble blindly across the hall to the chair. Her head swam and her heart was plunged into the deepest despair, for her dreams of him coming home within weeks had been shattered.

She fought back the swirls of darkness in her head, the telegram clutched in her hand, the stark, cruel words still imprinted on her mind. Through the haze of shock she became aware of the bustle and chatter coming from upstairs as everyone prepared for Rita’s party and knew she couldn’t stay here in the hall. Rita was getting married tomorrow, and the last thing Peggy wanted was to make a show of herself and spoil the happy atmosphere.

It took every ounce of will to force herself off the chair and unsteadily make her way into her hall-floor bedroom. Immensely thankful that her eldest daughter, Anne, had taken the three little girls upstairs and was therefore unable to witness her collapse, she closed the door firmly behind her and sank onto her bed. Desperate to regain her compos ure, she dipped her head to her knees and fought back the great tide of bitter tears that was building inside her.

Once her head was clearer, she reached for Jim’s silver-framed photograph and held it to her heart as the dam finally burst and all the hurt and disappointment flooded out to soak the pillow. Aware that her anguished sobs might be heard, she forcibly muffled them in the depths of that pillow, until she was barely able to breathe, and she held Jim’s photograph so tightly the sharp corners of the metal frame dug into her. It was a pain she welcomed, for it seemed to override the awful agony in her heart.

What more did the army want from him? He’d been away from home for years already; survived fierce jungle fighting; been wounded; seen his best friend crippled for life and close comrades killed. He’d come through terrible bouts of malaria and dysentery in the belief he’d be sent home the minute hostilities were at an end – only to discover he was still needed out there. It was the most bitter of blows, dealt to her by a few short words that explained nothing, and left her bereft.