It was a very small group, but at least they weren’t total strangers. Maybe she could handle this.

‘We used to have one more, but the Telford girl’s gone off to uni, so you’d be making up numbers and really helping us out. Only if you want to, of course. Like I said, we do have a lot of fun.’ She stopped, a pleading, hopeful look in her eyes. Nicole felt her resolve waning.

‘What do you say?’

After Mandy left, Nicole sanded the hallway and then cleaned up the dust. So much dust! If she ever renovated another house, this would be one job she’d want to pay someone to do. She didn’t have the money for that now though. The stipend was thin and she had to do as much as she could herself.

She took a long hot shower, washing dust out of her hair and curled up on the sofa for her nightly dose of Ivy.

12th December, 1941

My Dearest Tom,

Today I spent the afternoon with Lucy. She made tea, even though I insisted there was no need, and she fussed about terribly.

I took some lamington cakes with me. Though, as I suspected, she did not touch them. Why is it we think food and tea will make everything all right again? What could possibly make this situation all right again?

Lucy wore that vacantly brave expression we all wear when we have to keep on going even though we feel dead inside. I know that expression very well.

You have been missing now for so long, my love, it is hard to maintain hope. There was a story in the papers a few weeks ago of a soldier being found in a tiny village in France, two years after he was separated from his platoon. He had no memory of who he was and it was only chance that another division was passing by and stopped to take water that they found him.

Whether it is a tale of truth, I do not know. But chance and hope are all that I have to hang on to.

Just before I took my leave of Lucy and our uneasy silence, I reached out and took her hand in mine. She must have seen something familiar in me, a mirror of her own feelings perhaps, because her bottom lip began to tremble. I cradled her cheek in my other hand and her tears burst forth.

We held each other tightly and sobbed into each other’s shoulders. I do not know for how long. I do know that when we both regained our composure our silence was no longer awkward, but comforting. It is strange how close you can feel to someone without exchanging words. I believe now, in each other’s company, neither of us need put on the brave face we do with others to protect those around us from our grief.