The car drew silently to a halt by the church steps where the photographer was waiting. The chauffeur opened the doors and Peggy shepherded the children out, warning them to stay together, wait for the bride, and smile to the man with the camera.

Ivy tottered out on her high heels clutching her posy of pink roses and white gypsophila, then straightened her dress. ‘You go in,’ she said to Anne and Peggy. ‘I’ll watch this little lot.’

‘Are you sure?’ asked Peggy with a frown.

‘It’ll be good practice for when this one comes,’ she said cheerfully, patting her stomach.

Peggy looked beyond her, saw the second limousine slowly nose its way into the car park, and realised there wouldn’t be time for any mischief. She smiled her thanks to Ivy and followed Anne into the church to be greeted by the familiar scents of damp stone, dusty old books and burnt candlewicks. Today there were the added perfumes of Stan’s flowers which April had arranged in glorious profusion on the altar, by the choir stalls and lectern, and in small bunches at the end of the front rows of pews,

Despite the beautiful organ music that Mary was playing, their footsteps echoed up into the high, vaulted roof as they walked down the broad aisle of stone slabs and past the many empty back pews. St Andrew’s was a vast, cold edifice even on the warmest summer day, but its saving grace was the stained-glass windows which had been revealed again now war was over, and the warmth of the colours drenched the entire chilly space in a soft, warm glow.

Peggy smiled a welcome to Gloria who was in bright pink, and to Rosie in her pale blue dress and coat. Ron looked very smart for once in a suit and tie, and Sally had changed into a floaty dress of rose-printed chiffon with a large-brimmed cream hat. Her husband and the rest of the fire station crew were all in uniform; Sally’s brother, Ernie, was in his new school uniform, and little Harry, who’d refused point-blank to be a page boy, was in a smart jacket and short trousers.

Peggy’s youngest son, Charlie, grinned back at her, resplendent in his first grown-up suit, and looking more like her Jim than ever, which made her heart twist. There was no sign of Doris or the Colonel, and Frank seemed to be without his wife Pauline. His son, Brendon, sat with Betty and their baby, and there was a smattering of patients from Cliffe who’d come to know Peter during his recuperation there.

As Anne went to sit next to Martin in the front pew, Peggy noted that Fran was now standing by the organ to accompany Mary on the violin, their music soft and unobtrusive as it mingled with the quiet murmurs of the wedding guests. Fran looked stunning as always in a crêpe de Chine dress of tawny ochre which set off her lightly tanned skin and autumnal hair to perfection.