Ada had noticed that, as the months passed by, Jamie’s love letters touched more on his emotions than on the actual events he was living through. Was he omitting to tell her things because he thought they might worry her or more realistically because the censors would delete any sensitive information? It was so frustrating and annoying, Ada thought crossly; she didn’t even know where her beloved was. He had been in France, then there was talk of his team being transferred. She prayed he wouldn’t be moved to a medical clearing station in the scorching deserts of North Africa. Suddenly deflated, Ada sat down on the garden bench and brushed tears from her eyes.

‘Stop it!’ she said out loud.

She knew that if she had been at work, busy on the wards, she wouldn’t have had a minute to dwell on such sad, defeatist thoughts; when she was working, she was always steadfastly cheerful and optimistic, especially when her patients’ morale was low. She couldn’t afford to be so pathetic now, she impatiently told herself; but when she allowed the dreaded thought to cross her mind that she might lose the man she adored, that her unborn child might never know his or her father, she was filled with a blind panic. Springing to her feet, she hurried into the cottage, where she took a writing pad and pen from the bureau in the parlour and returned to the little garden bench to write.

My dearest, darling Jamie,

I’m finally settled into our cottage, our first home and it’s wonderful!

Jamie might not be with her, but the least she could do was to brighten his world and hopefully bring a smile to his weary face at the end of a long shift with buoyant news from home.