‘Of course I am. The little one’s taken well to the bottle and it’s time you had a day out and I’m sure . . .’ the older woman wriggled her shoulders as if she too shared Kate’s excitement, ‘ . . . you’d like to see your young man again.’

Deeply moved by the woman’s understanding, Kate bent and kissed the wrinkled cheek. ‘Oh, you’re so good to me!’

The old lady flapped her hand and shooed Kate back to her sewing, but the pink tinge on her face told Kate she was touched by the younger woman’s display of affection.

She was standing, huddled into her thick coat, on the draughty station at Grantham staring up the track – just waiting.

‘Wouldn’t you be better in the waiting room, Miss?’ a porter – only a young boy – asked.

‘What? Oh, no – no thanks. His . . . The train should be here in a minute. I don’t want to miss it.’

The young boy nodded knowingly. ‘Your feller coming home on leave, is he, Miss?’

She nodded. She didn’t want to go into explanations.

‘We get a lot of reunions and partin’s on this station. Breaks ya heart sometimes, miss. Specially when they’re leavin’. Might never come back again, see.’

Kate swallowed the lump in her throat as she remembered the last time she had seen Danny; she had not thought then that it might be the last time she would see him. Yet when she had left Philip on this very platform only a few weeks ago, she had been only too aware that they could be parting for ever. She should have trusted him, she castigated herself, she should have had more faith in his love for her.

‘When’s the next train due in from the north?’ she asked.

The boy shrugged his shoulders. ‘Difficult to say. There should be one in about an hour. Why don’t you wait in the waiting room, Miss. It’d be warmer in there.’

‘I’m fine – really. To tell you the truth, I can’t settle to sit down.’

A train came drew in from the south and passengers spilled on to the opposite platform. Kate hardly glanced across the tracks, her gaze intent on the empty track curving northwards out of the station. Behind her there came the clatter of footsteps as passengers from the train made their way over the tracks and on to the platform where she was waiting and towards the main exit. There was laughter and chatter as people greeted each other. Then, with a great deal of hissing and puthering smoke, the train pulled out of the station again to continue its journey. The noises faded and there was silence once more.

She heard her name spoken softly. ‘Kate?’ and again, ‘Katie.’

For a fleeting moment, she felt devastated; that was not Philip’s voice. He had not come.