Rosie smiled. ‘No, mebbe you’re right.’ Then her smile faded. ‘I seem to spend me life waiting.’

‘I know, love, I know.’

Rosie sat down on Kate’s bed watching the baby kicking in her high-sided cot. ‘Poor Danny. He’s got a son he’s never seen and now a niece he doesn’t even know about.’

Kate sat beside her, putting her arm around the girl. Rosie leaned her head against Kate’s shoulder, drawing strength. Her action reminded Kate sharply of their childhood.

‘You must believe he’s still alive, Rosie. I do,’ she said firmly.

‘I’ll try, Kate. But if he isn’t – I really don’t know how I’m going to live out the rest of my life without him.’

Silently, Kate thought, ‘I know just how you feel, Rosie.’

*

The weeks of winter turned into spring. Despite the deprivations of war, Ella thrived and the little terraced house was a haven for Kate. She received letters frequently from her stepfather with loving messages from her grandfather. But no word came from her mother or from her sister, Lilian.

There was still no news of Danny, and no more letters from Philip either.

Then suddenly, one morning while she was busy sewing, she heard Mrs Godfrey’s voice raised in alarm. ‘Kate, Kate, come quick . . .’

Fearful that something was wrong with either the old lady or Ella, Kate hurried through to the back room to find Mrs Godfrey waving a yellow envelope at her. ‘It’s one of those dreadful telegrams. It’s addressed to you and the lad’s waiting for a reply.’

With trembling fingers, Kate tore open the thin envelope and unfolded the single sheet of paper. There was no name or address of the sender and the message just said, ‘Meet me Grantham station. Thursday the twenty-fifth.’

Kate gasped. Philip. It must be from Philip. He wanted to see her again. He was trying to keep the promise he had made to her.

‘Well, what is it?’ Mrs Godfrey asked.

‘It’s nothing – I mean, it’s not bad news . . .’ She went to the back door to tell the boy that there was no reply. Closing the back door, her eyes still on the piece of paper in her hand she walked back into the room to stand uncertainly beside Mrs Godfrey’s sofa.

‘Who’s it from, then?’

‘I – it doesn’t say . . .’ Kate hesitated. This time she had no choice but to take Mrs Godfrey partially into her confidence. ‘I – I think it’s from Ella’s father.’

‘Oh!’

‘He – wants me to meet him – in Grantham, the day after tomorrow.’

‘Do you want to go?’

Kate met the older woman’s gaze and nodded, knowing her eyes were shining her answer.

‘Then go, my dear. I can mind Ella until Peg gets home from work. She can put her to bed.’

‘Are you sure?’ Kate asked diffidently.