As the service was about to begin, Ivy took charge of Rita’s bouquet, herded the children into the front pew where Anne and Martin were waiting for them, and then sat down next to Andy.

Peggy’s tears soaked her handkerchief. She did so love weddings, and none could possibly be as beautiful or moving as this one.

Peter had always known that Rita was beautiful, but today she was so utterly stunning that he found he could barely breathe, let alone speak. He stumbled through the hymns and over the vows, making a complete hash of them and getting hot under the collar until Rita reached up to touch his face and whisper that she loved him.

He relaxed and smiled down at her and suddenly felt calmer than ever before. He promised to love, honour and cherish her until death parted them, and then carefully eased the gold band onto her finger.

‘I now pronounce you man and wife,’ said the vicar, his voice ringing out in the hush. ‘You may kiss your bride.’

Peter lifted the veil from her beautiful face, saw the light of love in her eyes and with aching tenderness kissed her lips, his heart swelling with such emotion he thought he might weep at the power of it.

3

Danuta had watched Stanislaw work his charm on all the other women, and had coolly resisted his overtures. She knew that most Polish men of the noble class were just as chivalrous and over-attentive, and as it was as natural to them as breathing, she’d made little of it.

She’d managed to avoid him while the photographer fussed about outside the church, and had quickly climbed into the taxi with the other girls as he was busily shepherding the guests to their cars and ensuring no one got left behind. Just because they were both Poles, it didn’t mean she had to get stuck with him.

‘That Stanislaw’s definitely got all the women in a fluster,’ said Sarah on a giggle as the taxi headed for the Officers’ Club. ‘You want to watch out, Danuta, he’s clearly got his eye on you.’

‘He has eyes on all women,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘Polish men always think they are irresistible.’

‘But you must admit, Danuta, he is handsome,’ said Jane. ‘And a baron too.’

‘Maybe. But I am not interested.’

This flat statement was met with an awkward silence until Mary broke it. ‘I would have thought you’d be delighted to meet someone from home,’ she said quietly. ‘After all, Danuta, he told me he knew your brother.’

Danuta felt a stab of surprise and eyed her sharply. ‘He did not say this to me.’

‘Well, I’m sure he’s just waiting for the right moment,’ Mary replied. ‘He told me they’d trained together in Poland and flown together in Spain and over here. He said he would have liked to talk to you about him, but you seemed a little frosty towards him.’

‘Hmph. I was polite, is all. Because I not fall for his smooth talk, does not make me frosty.’