While Cordelia made the pot of tea, Peggy grabbed an umbrella and went outside to see if there were any eggs this morning. The hens had been a godsend all through the war, but recently they hadn’t been laying as well, and it was becoming a real worry. She found three brown eggs in the laying box, scattered some food about and locked the coop before dashing back inside.

‘The hens only gave us these this morning,’ she said, placing the eggs carefully in a crock on the drainer. ‘I’m wondering if they’re getting old and past it.’

‘Well, we have had them for a good many years,’ said Cordelia, briskly stirring the tea leaves in the pot. ‘Perhaps they need another cockerel to liven them up?’

‘No fear,’ replied Peggy. ‘Adolf was a holy terror, and I’m not risking my hens getting mauled about again.’

Cordelia thumped the teapot on the table and sat down. ‘Talk to Ron,’ she said. ‘He’ll know what to do.’

Peggy looked at her sharply. ‘Are you all right, Cordy? Only you seem a bit put out this morning.’

‘I’m fine,’ she said dismissively. ‘It’s this cold, damp weather getting into my bones which makes me cross. Things are difficult enough without the arthritis flaring up in my hands again – and we’re only in December. I dread what the next few months will bring us.’

Peggy accepted her explanation, but suspected her being out of sorts had more to do with the loss of her nephew and Philip than with her arthritis – although it did always flare up at this time of year.

‘Will you be all right looking after Daisy while I go shopping?’ she asked tentatively. ‘Only, with Bob due to arrive today, I need to finish stocking up on things for Christmas.’

‘I’m neither senile nor helpless, Peggy,’ Cordelia retorted. ‘Of course I’ll look after Daisy. But instead of you standing in queues for hours, you should get Charlie to help you.’

‘Organising my Saturday morning for me, Cordelia?’ teased Charlie as he came in looking still half-asleep. He slumped into a chair and eyed the rain which was lashing across the garden. ‘It’s not going to be much fun on the rugby pitch this afternoon,’ he said gloomily.

‘It won’t be much fun queuing either,’ said Peggy. ‘But if we do half the list each, it shouldn’t take too long.’ At his reluctant nod, she went through her list. She’d do Alf the butcher, Fred the Fish and Sam the greengrocer because there was always a chance that these old pals might slip her something extra from under the counter. Charlie could do the bakery and the Home and Colonial.

She found the appropriate food stamps and counted out enough money to cover his share of the shopping. ‘There should be enough there, but if there isn’t forget a couple of the tinned stuff,’ she said. ‘I can just about manage without them.’

Charlie nodded, his mouth full of cereal.