This was no bad thing, she realised with some awe. Sybil had been regarded as a beauty by everyone in the ex-pat communities of Malaya and Singapore, and she had certainly shone with her golden hair, dewy complexion and almost effortless sophistication. Sybil had been the consummate hostess and socialite, adored by Sarah and Jane and equally adored and pampered by their father Jock. Sarah knew her mother hadn’t changed much since escaping from Singapore with newly born James to her parents’ sugar cane plantation in northern Queensland, for her letters were full of her hectic social round, and the enclosed snapshots showed the same vibrant, attractive woman Sarah remembered.

Sarah looked across at the line of precious photographs that were displayed on the narrow mantelpiece above the gas fire. Some she’d managed to bring with her from Singapore, and others were ones her mother had sent. Having studied them closely, she turned back to the mirror to compare those images with her own reflection.

It was interesting to note that her eyes were the same shape but a paler blue than her mother’s; her cheekbones were less defined and her nose was perhaps a little too snubbed to be regarded as attractive in the way her mother’s was. She was still very slim but had lost the deep tan of her outdoor life in Malaya, and now her skin had taken on the fresh, rather rosy hue of an English girl. But she had certainly inherited her father’s firm jawline, and her hair was not pale gold like Sybil’s, but inclined to darken with streaks of honeyed brown and copper during the English winters. There were vestiges of her mother in her face, but Sarah decided she’d never be as beautiful, and was happy to accept the fact.

She turned from the mirror and hunted out the pearl studs and single-strand necklace she’d brought with her from Singapore, and once they were in place, she stepped into her shoes and went to stand by the bedroom window, her thoughts far from Beach View and the rather gloomy vista of Cliffehaven’s rooftops and chimneys in the dwindling light of evening.

The news of the Japanese surrender had wrought mixed emotions for her and Jane, for the long years of war and separation from their loved ones had seemed endless. It was said that home was where the heart lay, and although they’d both been extremely happy here with Peggy Reilly, the yearning for that home in the jungle had become more acute – the need to know what had happened after the fall of Singapore to their father and Sarah’s fiancé Philip ever more urgent. And for Sarah, it meant having to face the reality of keeping her engagement promise to Philip – should he still be alive – despite the fact she was in love with another man.

She’d met Delaney on the Cliffe estate where she’d been working in the offices of the Women’s Timber Corps. He’d arrived with the other Americans to complete their training before they were sent into the fighting across the Channel. The attraction had been instant and mutual, and although she’d tried desperately not to fall in love with him, it was to no avail. And yet their dream of being together had been shattered by a twist of fate, for she’d been on the brink of accepting Delaney’s proposal when she’d received proof that Philip was still alive, but now a prisoner of war alongside her father in Changi, and holding her to her promise to wait for him.