I carried her letters around in my pocket and read them over and again. How could women do welding, were there no end to our skills? Just the idea made my skin tingle. Some women cut their hair, some even wore trousers! We joined together in support for our men and our country and succeeded in surprising even ourselves.

Arthur returned home on a few days leave every three months. He told us horrific stories when Mother was out of earshot. There was a haunted air about him in mid-December. We gathered together for a pretend Christmas Day. Mother, determined to spend every moment with her son, fell asleep in the chair after we’d swapped presents and eaten.

My darling Sissy was also home. She wore bright red lipstick and drew a black beauty spot on her jaw, which Father objected to, saying she looked common. She sat on Arthur’s lap and threw her arms around his neck.

‘Come on, Arthur, tell us what’s really going on?’ she said quietly. ‘Ma’s asleep, and you know we won’t breathe a word.’

He sighed, weary and depressed. ‘If it gets out that I’ve told you, they’ll execute me, you know that?’

Sissy and I exchanged a horrified glance, then nodded.

‘It’s the Gallipoli campaign.’ We frowned at him. ‘On the land and the sea between Greece and Turkey. Turkey’s on their side and we’re supporting the admiralty, allowing allied ships to pass through the Dardanelles. They’re desperate to capture Constantinople and knock Turkey out of the war, but it’s not going well. If it wasn’t for the Aussies, and Kiwis, we wouldn’t have hung on this long. Godawful trench warfare. Gas that literally melts your eyes and lungs. Bodies everywhere, wounded and dead. Trenches running with rats at night. The casualties are unbelievable.’

‘What? Real dead bodies?’ I said, unable to imagine such a thing.

‘Yes, Gertie, real dead bodies!’ I could hear the irritation in his voice. ‘That’s what the rats come for, running over us when we fall asleep in the trenches.’

‘Rats?’ Horrified, I couldn’t imagine.

‘Despite the rain, it’s so bloody hot there.’

I clasped my hand over my mouth and glanced at Mother. Oh goodness, if she had heard him use that language!

Arthur snorted good-humouredly when he realised he’d sworn, but then his face softened and a sad look came to his eyes. ‘Sorry, darling Gertie. You’re so innocent, dear sister. You wouldn’t believe how often I think of you when things get too bad. When the trenches swarm with flesh flies. When there are sheets of maggots. When everyone’s sick, shell-shocked, or suffering from trench foot.’ He stopped and stared, trance-like. ‘You see, we’re not really in this war for our country, Gertie, or for King George; we’re fighting for our mothers and sisters.’