He left it until around eight before going back upstairs to check on Kate. In the bedroom, he again stood at the window, desperately trying to work out what to do next.

‘Will?’

He started.

‘What time is it?’

‘Hello, babe. It’s getting on for nine o’clock.’

‘Nine?’

‘In the morning.’

‘Oh.’ She swallowed, her gaze wandering around the darkened room. ‘What day is it?’

‘Sunday. Don’t worry, sweetheart, the sleep will have done you good.’

‘Sunday?’ She sounded bewildered.

‘It’s alright, you needed the rest. I’ll go and make you some tea, then when you’re ready I’ll run you a bath, okay?’

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat for a few moments as if still confused. ‘I’ll run the bath. You get the drink. My mouth feels awful.’ She sounded groggy and swayed slightly but made her way slowly to the bathroom.

Back in the kitchen, Will heard the sound of running water and the toilet flushing. He decided to tell her about the rowan tree and the air-raid shelter as soon as he got back upstairs. She would see the devastation soon enough, so he might as well warn her. He mounted the stairs with a heavy tread.

He stood her mug on the side of the bath and began to sponge her back. He was pleased to see that Kate had washed her hair. She looked tired, painfully thin, but still beautiful.

‘You missed one heck of a storm,’ he began tentatively.

She peered at him shortsightedly. ‘When?’

‘Late yesterday afternoon and into the evening. I don’t think it calmed down until the early hours.’ He hesitated. ‘It did a lot of damage, Kate. I’m going to ring Barry and get him to help me clear up. Er, sadly the rowan has come down — and the phone lines too.’

She stiffened.

‘I’ll call Barry as soon as I can. Maybe he can get here soon, then we can sort everything out. I haven’t checked everywhere yet, but I can’t see any structural damage, thank heavens. And I ought to check on Mrs Swain’s place.’ He chattered on, conscious of how ridiculous he sounded.

In stony silence, Kate sipped her tea, staring down into the foamy bathwater.

‘Can I have my towel, please?’ she asked.

Her tone was flat, harsh. She stood up, and he draped the towel around her shoulders, but she snatched it from him and began to briskly rub herself down. She stepped from the bath and pushed past him into the bedroom.

With the towel around her, Kate went and stood at the window. Watching from the doorway, Will saw a kaleidoscope of different expressions travel across her face. Horror, succeeded by sorrow, quickly followed by anger, disbelief, and then she turned and faced him.

‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ Her tone was accusing.

‘I . . . I couldn’t.’