Peggy knew that when Mary had left for Sussex to enrol at teaching college, she’d found the missing pieces of her life and was content to leave the past behind and look to the future with her sweetheart, Jack Boniface. And yet that future had been marred by tragedy, for shortly after their marriage, and the birth of their son, Jack Boniface had been killed during a commando raid in Germany.

Peggy’s heart swelled with love in the knowledge of how much effort and planning must have gone into this surprise visit, and her spirits rose for the first time since she’d received that awful telegram.

In the light of this new joy, she realised Jim would come home when he could, and until then, she would wait for him as she’d waited throughout the long years of their separation. The war was well and truly over. He was safe. That’s all that really mattered.

Ron had realised that the little girls would be too excited by the prospect of tomorrow’s wedding to go to bed early, and were therefore in need of something to entertain them. He’d brought Harvey, his brindled lurcher, and had arrived at Beach View in his long poacher’s coat and carrying a crate of beer just as Peggy and the others were leaving for the Anchor, and had promised faithfully to keep things in order, not drink too much, and have all three children in bed no later than seven.

And he’d fully intended to keep that promise. Unfortunately, even the best-laid plans could go awry, for he hadn’t factored in the age of the children, and how they might react to his surprise.

Ron had closed the door to the large dining room, made sure the other men had a beer and the children some squash, and then reached into one of his deep coat pockets. ‘Now, girls,’ he said, eyeing each of them fondly. ‘Your grandad has a special surprise for you. But you have to be very quiet. Do you understand?’

The three little girls nodded solemnly, their eyes wide in anticipation.

One by one, Ron carefully drew the sleeping ferrets from his pocket and held them close as they drooped over his arms. ‘This is Flora and Dora,’ he explained softly. ‘They’re a bit tired because they’ve been out hunting today, so you must stay still and very quiet and not wake them too quickly.’

Daisy, who would be four at the end of the year, was singularly unimpressed because she’d met and played with Flora and Dora many times. But Anne’s Rose, who was already four, gasped and tried to reach out to stroke Dora’s soft fur, and was quickly forestalled by Ron who knew the ferret could be tetchy about being touched when she was half-asleep, and inclined to bite.

Little Emily, who was not quite three, just stared.

Ron held the ferrets against his chest and gently stroked their bellies so they remained calm as they began to wake and take an interest in their surroundings. ‘Now,’ he murmured, ‘keep very still and quiet while I put them down so they can explore.’