O’Keefe merely nodded, his face drained of all colour, his thin shoulders sagging from the weight of all the responsibility he’d carried throughout his ordeal.

Jim saluted him, then turned away swiftly and hurried to the car before anyone could see how deeply he’d been affected.

He sat there staring out of the windscreen, battling to contain the raging fury that was building inside him. He’d thought his war had been hard – thought he’d seen and heard more than any man should bear in one lifetime. But these men, these brave survivors, had witnessed and borne things that no man should bear. And although he’d never met Jock or Philip, he thought of them as real heroes.

Gathering his wits about him, he dried his eyes, tamping down on the awful tide of anguish that threatened to overwhelm him, then drove back to Raffles. The dread of having to face Sybil and her girls grew with every mile, and when he’d reached the hotel, he had to sit for a few minutes to prepare himself for what would inevitably be a traumatic and distressing conversation.

Jane looked up as Jim entered the office and knew from his expression that he was the bearer of bad news – and that could only mean one thing. Her heart began to thud painfully and her breath seemed trapped in her chest as Elsa hurried to her side.

‘Who is it?’ she managed in dread.

‘I’m so sorry, Jane,’ he replied, coming to take her hand. ‘It’s your father.’

‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ she whispered.

At his nod, she felt the sob form in her throat, swiftly swelling and rising until it escaped in a storm of pain and sorrow. ‘And Philip?’ she wailed. ‘Is he gone too?’

‘We don’t know yet,’ said a distressed Jim. ‘The teams will be out searching now we know where he was held.’

Jane turned into Elsa’s embrace and sobbed against her even though she’d prepared herself for this moment – had known instinctively that it would come. But the reality of knowing he was gone, that she would never see him again, talk to him again or be held by him was stark and unbearable.

She was vaguely aware of Jim leaving the room, and hearing Elsa’s soft words of comfort, but all she could see was her darling Pops – big and bluff and fully in charge during any crisis – and yet soft-hearted, loving and oh so gentle with them and their mother. Snapshots of memories flashed across her mind, and she saw him striding through the rubber trees, tanned and fit, his sturdy legs and broad shoulders giving him an aura of strength and capability.

She withdrew from Elsa’s embrace eventually and pulled herself together. ‘I’m sorry, Elsa, I didn’t mean to let go like that.’

‘You have absolutely nothing to apologise for,’ said the older woman. ‘It’s natural to cry at times like these.’

‘But I almost knew this would happen and thought I’d steeled myself against it.’ Jane mopped her face. ‘Oh, God,’ she breathed, ‘how am I going to tell Mother? This will kill her.’