Danuta had gone up to Cliffe airfield to talk to the others, but it seemed they hadn’t heard much from him either, and Roger had even hinted that they’d soon have to find someone else to share the flying hours, as by law there had to be a pilot and co-pilot on each flight. Dispirited, not only for herself but also for Stanislaw, she’d buried herself in work, and gone in her off-duty hours to check on how the repairs were going in Tamarisk Bay.

The cottage was right at the end of the short row and tucked into the natural curve of the low cliff that shelved down to the shingle beach. Frank had rented out the other two cottages to returning servicemen and their families as they waited to be rehoused, but this third and rather dilapidated little dwelling had slowly mouldered during the years it had been vacant, and it had taken time and a great deal of effort to make it habitable again.

That Saturday morning, Danuta parked her car alongside two others in the lee of a stand of bushes to one side of the steep track which led down to the beach, and gazed out to the sea which was sparkling in the bright sun. It was all very pretty, but utter madness for someone with Stan’s disability to decide to live here. And yet that was typical of Stan.

She climbed out of the car and discovered that despite the sunny day there was a sharp wind. Wrapping her scarf round her neck, she made her way down the track, carefully avoiding the water-filled potholes which would have to be filled in if Stan had any chance of getting out.

There was no sign of Frank, but she assumed he was sleeping in after a night’s fishing, so she walked along the paved path, past the outhouses to the last cottage. Finding it unlocked, she stepped inside and smiled. Frank had clearly been very busy these past few days, for the painting was finished, the wooden floors sanded, and the old cooking range had been given a fresh coating of blacking. All she had to do now was to find furniture, curtains, rugs and kitchen equipment to make it homely.

The cottage consisted of just three rooms with a lavatory, tin bath and hot water boiler in the outhouse that was tacked on at the front. The bedroom was on her right, the tiny kitchen on the left and the sitting room ran across the back, its large window giving a magnificent view of the sea and bringing light into the whole cramped space. Frank had painted the walls and ceilings white, the floors gleamed with fresh varnish, and the new windows were sturdy enough to keep out any draughts.

Danuta wandered from room to room, wondering how quickly Stan would find it claustrophobic, for he was a big man and needed lots of space around him. Yet she could imagine them sitting cosily in the sitting room of an evening to watch the moon slowly rise over the water before they snuggled up into the lovely big bed Rachel Goldman had promised them. Blushing at the thought, she dug her hands into her coat pockets and stared out of the window, not really seeing anything.