Easter Sunday morning was bright and clear, and Captain Rupert Forbes-Kitchener was immaculate in his neatly pressed uniform as he inspected the local Combined Cadet Force. They were forming the guard of honour outside St Mary’s Church as the Brownies, Scouts and Guides trooped past carrying their various flags and colours. It was a fine ceremony and supported every year by the villagers of Ragley and Morton – a time for the two villages to come together.

The Cadet Force was a thriving institution; most of the teenagers in the area joined and took part in its many parades. Grammar schools and independent schools had provided the vast majority of officers during the Second World War and, in consequence, the tradition was continued afterwards. It was a common sight in Ragley, as in other villages, to see young boys dressed in full khaki uniform with Blancoed gaiters and shiny black boots marching up and down and practising drill with .303 rifles. Captain Forbes-Kitchener had a .38 revolver in a leather holster attached to his belt and took pride in the fact it was always fully loaded!

For these teenage boys learning to fire guns on the rifle range was the norm. After all, it was expected they would all go on to do their National Service, so getting used to firearms made sense.

Tom and Lily joined the steady stream of villagers from both Ragley and Morton as they walked through the guard of honour. Soon the church was filled for one of the special services of the year and Joseph Evans was in his pulpit.

After his sermon he mentioned the news that had shocked the nation. In a solemn voice he said quietly, ‘We also must continue to remember Queen Mary in our prayers.’ On 24 March the country had come to a standstill when the Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, announced on the BBC Light Programme that, after an illness, the Queen had died peacefully at the age of eighty-five.

‘Happily,’ said Joseph, trying to lift the spirits of his congregation, ‘she lived to see her granddaughter, Queen Elizabeth, ascend the throne and soon we shall all have the opportunity to witness her Coronation … and what a wonderful day that will be.’

‘We’re buying a telly,’ whispered Aloysius Pratt on the back pew to Tommy Piercy. ‘Once in a lifetime t’see a Coronation.’

‘Will y’be invitin’ y’friends?’ asked Tommy.

Aloysius stared down at his hymn book and smiled. ‘Mebbe them that brings some sausages.’

It had certainly been a remarkable event when, in the week following her death, over a hundred thousand people had filed past the late Queen’s coffin in Westminster Hall before she was laid to rest at Windsor.

‘And may I remind you,’ said Joseph, ‘that official mourning will last until the twenty-fifth of April.’

After the service the villagers milled around, sharing news.

‘Can I give you a lift home?’ asked Tom.