‘They’ll only do that if we win, Jeannie.’

‘And we’re going to – we have to hang on to that, or we’ll be without hope.’

‘Jeannie’s right. No matter how you feel, just keep a lid on it all. Albie’s going nowhere; he’ll be a prisoner till the end of the war, whatever the outcome. And if he feels the same about you, then what will be, will be.’

‘We have to get him well first. I didn’t like the look of the reports that came with him from surgical.’

Once again they all fell silent. Kath serving them her delicious scones helped. ‘They smell grand, Kathy – remind me of home. Me ma does a lot of . . .’

‘Come on, Rosie, cry it out. Holding it all in will cause you to have a breakdown, and you’re with friends now.’ An arm came round her. She looked up into Kath’s face. ‘I can’t have this, crying in me cafe. Cheer up, girl, it may never happen.’

‘She’ll be all right, Kath. Things get on top of us now and then.’

‘I don’t wonder at it. And especially those of you who aren’t from round here. I’ll tell you what – I’ll put the wireless on. They play some nice music in the early evening before the news comes on.’

‘We can do a jig, Rosie; that’d cheer you up.’

As the music blasted out, Jeannie got up, scraping her chair loudly on the floor as she did so and, stuffing a mouthful of scone into her mouth, began to jig around in a hilarious fashion, holding up the skirt of her uniform.

‘Oh, Jeannie, you are a clown.’

‘Ha, I could dance you under the table, Freda.’

The music turned to a Scottish reel, and Freda stood. ‘We’ll see about that.’

‘Now, girls, mind me furniture.’

Taking no notice, Freda linked arms with Jeannie and swung her round. Then she skipped away, before turning, and this time both girls met and linked arms again and did a twirl. The sight, and the sound of the music, lit something in Rosie. Having lived in Scotland since she was a little girl, she knew plenty about Scottish dancing. Getting up, she kicked off her heavy shoes and raised one arm above her head. Putting the other on her waist, and being light on her feet, she danced a proper, elegant Scottish jig, bringing the others to a standstill in amazement.

The feeling that she got as the music pulsated through her lifted Rosie and made her heart soar, making her feel as if she was in the inn at Portpatrick, dancing with the locals as Ma and Angus clapped along. The clapping and cheering were almost as loud from the three of them watching her, and they hooted as the dance came to an end.