Knowing she had to sweeten the old fool up, Sybil gave him the briefest of kisses on the mouth.

‘Sorry, darling, but I need to tell you right away,’ she said as she feigned tears. ‘That I want to come back down South, I miss you so much, darling,’ she fawned.

Looking rather pleased with himself, Monty answered with a bit of a swagger. ‘It’s a bally awful situation,’ he agreed. ‘I can quite understand your feelings, sweetheart.’

Sybil took a deep breath before she moved on to the more delicate matter of the move.

‘When I heard the staff talking about the Army’s possible plans for Mary Vale, I decided to take the law into my own hands.’

With his little piggy eyes bulging indignantly, Monty blurted, ‘Did you indeed?’

Before he started blustering all over again, Sybil pressed on. ‘As you well know, I’m not the sort of girl that lies back and does as she’s told.’

Eyeing her full voluptuous breasts, Monty leered as he fiddled with buttons on her blouse. ‘Now you’re talking.’

Regretting her choice of words, Sybil announced as she pushed his hands away from her breasts, ‘So I’ve arranged to go into a rather lovely nursing home in Haywards Heath. Don’t you think that’s clever of me?’

Monty stopped mid-grope. ‘You did what?’ he demanded.

‘I’m moving out of Mary Vale; I never liked the place to start with. Stuck in the middle of nowhere surrounded by poor ignorant girls and nuns,’ she mocked. ‘The Elms will suit me down to the ground.’

‘What bloody “Elms” are you talking about?’ he snapped.

‘The nursing home near Haywards Heath, of course,’ she explained quickly, adding, as his face yet again went puce, ‘Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be discreet, I won’t mention a word about our relationship, nobody will ever know that you’re the father of the child – I promise.’

Not a fool, Monty snarled, ‘I suppose you want me to cover the costs for this exclusive Elms place?’

‘Well, of course, darling, I can’t possibly pay for your little faux pas.’

Hoping to quickly conclude the conversation and send Monty on his way, leaving her free to write the letters she was desperate to post that evening, Sybil leant close to stroke his cheek. ‘Aren’t you pleased with little old me for sorting everything out?’

Instead of smiling, Monty gave a sharp grunt. ‘I’m going to look into this Boswell business,’ he announced. ‘If I find some spotty little upstart has jumped the gun and thought to sideline me, he’ll be in for a bally court martial.’