‘Here we are,’ she said brightly, setting the tray down on a low table between the fireside chairs. ‘I’ve put a Woolton pie in the oven for our supper, and there are fresh raspberries from the garden with evaporated milk for dessert.’

He regarded her lovingly, his blue eyes brighter now the pain was being alleviated. ‘I could get used to being spoilt,’ he teased. ‘So, tell me about your day. Was there much to do in the office? And how did you get on at the shops and with Rosie?’

‘I brought a couple of letters I need you to look through before I reply to them,’ she said, opening her handbag and handing them over. ‘And there was a private letter addressed to me,’ she added hesitantly as she drew it out.

‘To you?’ he asked with a frown.

Doris nodded. ‘It wasn’t a very pleasant letter, but I don’t want you getting upset, John, because I’ve had the day to think about it, and have accepted there’s really no point in worrying over something I can’t resolve.’

His frown deepened. ‘Who’s been writing you unpleasant letters, Doris? Let me see.’

‘It’s from Michael,’ she replied, still holding back from giving it to him. ‘He’s turned down our invitation to the wedding.’

‘I rather expected he would,’ said John. ‘But there’s no call for unpleasantness. Let me see that.’

Doris reluctantly handed it over and waited with bated breath as he scanned the hostile short note.

‘I see,’ he murmured, folding it back into the envelope. ‘I apologise profusely for my son’s lack of good manners, Doris, and I’m extremely sorry you had to read that.’ He slowly and deliberately tore the letter to shreds and threw the pieces onto the fire. ‘I think that’s the best place for it, don’t you?’

Doris bit her lip as she nodded. She could tell that despite his brave words he was deeply hurt by his son’s rejection, and that although the letter was now burning to ashes, the message would remain with him for a long time. ‘I’m so sorry I had to show you that,’ she said quietly. ‘But I knew I couldn’t hide it from you.’

‘Perhaps that was what he’d been hoping for when he sent it to you personally,’ said John bitterly. ‘He knows I hate secrets, and it would have driven a wedge between us if you hadn’t been honest about it.’

‘I know.’ She poured the tea and lit them both cigarettes, deeply thankful she’d followed her instincts and not destroyed that letter. ‘Apart from that, I’ve had a very productive day,’ she said, changing the subject.

He smiled. ‘You found a hat?’

‘I did indeed,’ she replied, glad to see him smile again. ‘And you’ll see it on Saturday – not before. My outfit is almost ready and looks very smart, and I managed to book an appointment at Julie’s to get my hair and nails done on Saturday morning.’

‘Clever girl,’ he said fondly, the smile almost banishing the lines of pain and weariness from his handsome face. ‘And how did you get on at the bank and with Rosie?’