Corporal Perkins loved me, of that I am sure, and I believe Adam and I brought him a great deal of happiness. However, it’s a sad fact that he didn’t survive the war. Although he was a non-combatant, he was often in the war zone. His end came when a jeep in his convoy broke down. He left his vehicle to take a look, and stepped on a land mine. He gave a message to another soldier, for me.

Dearest Gertie and Adam, I love you both with all my heart. Don’t be too sad, you have made me happy beyond measure. I won’t be coming home, darling nurse of mine. I leave you with the task of finding a good father for my boy. Someone who knows about discipline, and love, and the importance of affection and loyalty, Gertie. In the short time we have had together, I am grateful for all the joy you have given me. You know I’ve loved you from that first moment I saw you, on the Britannic. I want you to know that I’m not in any pain, but I will not make it back, my darling. I’ll see you in heaven, beautiful Gertie. Hold my son tightly, for me. Kiss his sweet face, and talk of me when you take him to your breast.

All my eternal love,

Your devoted Corporal.

Adam had not been christened yet, and because his father had died, I insisted the boy had my family’s name. This was an unusual thing to do, but times were changing and there was so much going on with women’s rights, equality, and the vote, nobody was really surprised. Everyone knew I was a great supporter of Mrs Pankhurst, and Sissy would have approved.

Our son, Adam, grew into a fine young man, tall and handsome. In 1938, when he reached twenty-one, I told him about his father, Manno, how he pledged his love, but never returned.

Adam had a passion for travel. He had trained as an architect and specialised in bridge building, but he eagerly signed up with the army when they advertised for professionals, despite my objecting.

‘Adam, I’ve lost almost everyone I loved to the war. I’m begging you, stay away from the forces.’

‘Really, Mum.’ He took me into his arms. ‘Leave the drama programmes for the radio. War of the Worlds isn’t real, you know, it’s make believe, straight out of George Orwell’s own head. I’m not going to be in any danger building bridges, now am I? Anyway, I want to try and find out what happened to my father while I’m abroad.’

‘Honestly, you sound like my lovely brother, Arthur. He didn’t believe anything bad could happen to him. “We’ll show them!” he cried. Excited to join up and defend the Empire.’