It was an enormous disappointment that Fran probably wouldn’t be playing at their wedding, but it was important the girl took care of herself. The only real cloud on her horizon was the worry over John, whose back was still being troublesome despite all his protestations to the contrary. She could only hope that the pills the doctor had given him would lessen the pain, but not encourage him to do too much which could aggravate things. She had little doubt that he would go through with their wedding come hell or high water, but she wanted him to be well enough to enjoy it and partake fully in the celebrations, and the week’s honeymoon they’d planned in the Lake District.

She was still blushing at the thought as she arrived at the office. There was a stack of mail waiting for her, and various memos regarding the leases and rents on the small factory units. It seemed John had been right when he’d said the place would soon be buzzing again, for all the units had been rented out, and the conversion of the armament factory was in full swing, with applications already pouring in to rent one of the large spaces.

Doris opened the letters one by one and placed them in order of urgency on her desk. She could answer most of them, but a couple would need some advice from John before she replied.

The last letter was addressed to her in an unfamiliar hand, and she sliced through the envelope with the opener, wondering who would write to her here. Unfolding the single sheet of paper, she saw the signature at the bottom and her heart missed a beat. It was from John’s son Michael.

Mrs Williams,

I received the invitation to your wedding with some surprise, as I’m sure you and Father are fully aware of my feelings on the matter. If this invitation is Father’s way of trying to persuade me to accept the situation, then he’s sorely mistaken, and I must decline the offer.

Major M. White

Doris’s hand was shaking with fury as she folded the sheet of paper back into the envelope. She was tempted to tear it into a hundred pieces and commit it to the bin, for if John read it, he’d be deeply hurt. But she realised he’d have to know what his son had written if their new life wasn’t to begin with her keeping things from him, no matter how good her intentions. She’d already witnessed his reaction to her having fibbed over something, and never wanted to see such disappointment in his eyes again.

‘You’re a nasty piece of work, Michael,’ she muttered. ‘And you should be ashamed of yourself.’ She shoved the letter in her handbag, deciding she’d wait for the right moment to show it to John – if there ever could be such a thing.

Danuta had read Peggy’s message with some exasperation. Peggy had clearly been unable to resist meddling, and although she’d undoubtedly meant well by going to see Solly, Danuta did wish she’d left things alone.