Peggy’s face muscles were aching from all the smiling she’d done since leaving her bedroom, but she refused to allow herself even a second of weakness, for it could burst through that wall of will she’d constructed to keep her tears at bay. This was no time for self-indulgence. She would enjoy this moment and make the best of it, for it was very special, and far too precious to spoil.

As Gloria took a brief respite from the piano to down a double gin, Peggy glanced across to the bar and caught Rosie’s eye to share a knowing look. They recognised the signs. Gloria was already well refreshed, and the more she drank the louder she became. She could be the life and soul of any party as long as no one upset her, but the wrong word or look would send her into fighting mode – and that could lead to all sorts of trouble and kill any celebration stone dead.

Peggy watched Gloria to gauge her mood, which seemed carefree enough at the moment, but like the English weather, it could change in an instant. She then lifted the glass of bitter lemon she’d chosen to keep a clear head for tomorrow and took a sip, wishing it was something stronger that might dull the pain in her heart and lift her spirits. Setting the drink aside, she lit a cigarette and wondered where her sister Doris had got to, for it was most unlike her to miss out on a party. Deciding something must have cropped up over her own wedding, which would take place next weekend, Peggy turned her attention to the girls who sat with her around the large and battered oak table.

Ivy had travelled down today with her husband, Andy, from their little flat in Walthamstow, and would be staying with Andy’s Aunt Gloria at the Crown – or at least Andy would, for Ivy had insisted upon spending tonight at Beach View with her best friend Rita, so they could share every last minute together before the wedding.

Peggy smiled, for the rather plain little Ivy had blossomed since her marriage to the young fireman, and now she was positively glowing in the first few months of her pregnancy. It was a delight to see her so happy after all she’d been through lately, and Peggy knew she would look lovely in the bridesmaid’s dress Sally Hicks had made especially for her. Rita’s dress was a closely guarded secret, but Peggy had no doubt it would be perfect and that Rita would make a beautiful bride.

Peggy turned her gaze to Sally, who’d been her very first evacuee. She’d arrived bewildered, half-starved and afraid from London, in charge of six-year-old Ernie, her frail crippled brother. Their neglectful mother hadn’t even bothered to see them off, and it had been months before she’d even turned up in Cliffehaven, only to flit off again with some new man.

Away from the slums and the hardships of the East End, and eased from the sole care of her brother, Sally had also blossomed during her time at Beach View, and had gone on to marry the local fire chief, John Hicks, with whom she now had little Harry. Young Ernie still lived with them, but now he was a strapping youth of thirteen and no longer wore the calliper that had been forced upon him following his bout of childhood polio.