Anxious Sybil asked, ‘What’s the matter with her?’

‘Like I said, she’s not well,’ Sister Mann replied in professional mode. ‘She’s having tests, that’s all I can say.’

As she went on her way, Sybil gazed thoughtfully at the empty bed, which without Rosie looked sad and forlorn.

‘This damned place has turned me soft in the head,’ Sybil muttered under her breath. ‘I used to hate Rosie and now I’m missing her – ridiculous!’

It’s true, though, Sybil thought; she had grown fond of the only friend she had made in Mary Vale. Admittedly the relationship had started with Sybil determined to milk everything she could out of Rosie about her time at Dowry House, but the daily visits and the laughs at Monty’s expense had become something Sybil actively looked forward to. The camaraderie that had developed between them; two women both miserably pregnant for very different reasons, had been something neither of them could ever have imagined. At opposite ends of the social spectrum, they had one vital link: Monty Baldwin. Feeling yet again so near and yet so far away, Sybil made her way back into the Home, wondering when she would see Rosie Pickles again.

At Hope Farm, Ronnie and Sally, having been told of their mother’s removal to another hospital, were both very upset.

‘When can we see her?’ little Sally asked tearfully.

‘When she comes back to Mary Vale,’ Mrs Larkin assured her.

Ever the pessimist, Ronnie demanded, ‘Is she going to die?’

‘Of course not!’ Mrs Larkin explained. ‘The doctors in the Lancaster hospital are going to make your mother stronger, then send her back home.’

‘Home?’ Ronnie cried. ‘Send her back to London?’

‘No, the Home where she lives with the other ladies.’

Ronnie’s pinched face fell; that wasn’t home, he thought bitterly. Though he worried about his mother, Ronnie couldn’t deny he was happier now that he wasn’t living at Mary Vale; he preferred living on the farm and playing on the fells; the village school was much nicer than the one in Grange too. In fact, Ronnie was settling in nicely, until he overheard the big boys talking in the playground.

‘Some of our lads are coming back,’ he heard the gang leader say.

‘How can they leave the Army without permission?’ a knowing lad asked.

Another one answered, ‘They might be injured or home on leave.’

The gang leader gave him a shove. ‘Are you listening, cloth ears?’ he scoffed. ‘They sneak back here into the country, then sneak back out again,’ he explained in a melodramatic whisper.

‘Why would they do that? They could get shot?’ a wiser boy queried.

‘To check their families are okay, make sure that their missis ain’t knocking off other fellas,’ the gang leader sniggered.

Shocked momentarily speechless by this remark, the other boys fell silent, until one shocked kid scoffed, ‘That can’t be true.’