He shook his head. ‘I’m eating at the Anchor.’

With a depressing sense that she still didn’t really know him, Peggy watched her youngest son gather up his things and leave the kitchen without saying goodbye. There had been a time before the war when she could gauge his moods and almost read his thoughts, but five years of being apart meant that although she loved him deeply, they were virtual strangers. They’d never really broached the subject of his evacuation, or how he’d felt about being sent away. It seemed to be something neither of them were willing to discuss – perhaps because the reality of how it had affected them might be too painful.

Peggy wondered fleetingly if he was happy to be home again, or if he was missing Aunt Vi and life on the Somerset farm. It wouldn’t have surprised her, for he’d spent his formative years there and had grown extremely fond of Vi, who’d taken on the role of surrogate mother in her absence. This was something that had made Peggy profoundly jealous, but her innate good sense had soon made her realise how selfish that was. The main thing was that Charlie had been given a loving, stable home. Of course he’d been lucky to have his sister, brother and nieces with him – and they’d all managed a very short visit home to see Jim before he was sent to India – unlike so many evacuees who’d had no contact with their families for years.

She listened to him clattering about in the basement, and then heard the slam of the back door. He seemed to be more settled now he was back on the rugby field, but he didn’t confide in her as he’d once done, and clearly found any sort of intimacy very awkward. She could only hope that he used the time he spent with his grandfather and uncle to open up and talk about the things that worried him.

Her thoughts were broken by Cordelia. ‘There’s post for you this morning,’ she said, pushing the letters and cards towards her. ‘I read the postcards as they were addressed to no one in particular. They all seem to be having a high old time,’ she added before returning to her perusal of the newspaper headlines.

Peggy felt a thrill of pleasure as she saw there was a letter from Jim and another from Ruby, as well as the four postcards. The one from Rita showed a view of Portsmouth docks, the note on the back clearly written in haste and excitement, for they were about to board the ship and she wanted them all to know she was thinking of them.

The picture postcards from Jane were more exotic, showing the port of Tripoli basking in the Mediterranean light, the pyramids of Cairo, and an ornate domed mosque in Bahrain. She turned them over one by one to read the messages.

It seemed Tripoli, Cairo and Bahrain were scorching hot and dusty and the food highly suspect even though they’d been staying in first-class hotels. They were expecting more of the same as they left for Karachi and Calcutta.