The confirmation of Grace’s suspicion was as swift as it was bitter. But it didn’t come from the BBC or any newspaper. It came from the saddest source of all: Mrs. Weatherford.

The blackout curtains were closed before the older woman finally arrived home the first night of her assistance with the WVS for the men returning from Dunkirk. Grace wished that she might have joined the ladies of the WVS, at least this once in their aid of the returning soldiers, but only those who were members were allowed to help the men. Instead, she waited in the parlor with Pigeon Pie cradled in her lap. If nothing else, her purchase was one more sale out of their unmoving stock. The story held humor to be sure, if one took into consideration it was written prior to Hitler’s attack on France.

Never had there been a book with such poor timing.

The click of the front door alerted Grace to Mrs. Weatherford’s return. She all but leapt out of the Morris chair and ran to the foyer.

Mrs. Weatherford’s gaze was stuck in the distance, her hands feeling for the doorframe, which she leaned heavily upon as she stepped out of her short heels.

“Mrs. Weatherford?” Grace reached for the older woman.

To her surprise, Mrs. Weatherford did not protest when Grace’s hand closed around her soft forearm. In fact, she offered no reaction whatsoever.

“Mrs. Weatherford?” Grace said again, this time slightly louder. “How was it?”

But even as she asked the question, the tension squeezing at Grace’s chest told her she wouldn’t want to hear the answer.

“Hmm?” Mrs. Weatherford’s brows lifted with great exaggeration.

“Did you see the men?” Grace asked, unable to stop herself. “Of the BEF?”

Mrs. Weatherford nodded slowly. “I did.” She drew in a deep breath and lifted her head, her vision going distant once more. “It was...it was...it...” She swallowed hard. “It was awful. Those men looked near death.” Her voice quavered. “Their eyes were filled with horror, and all of them were so tired they were falling asleep as they chewed the boiled eggs and apples we brought for them. I’ve never in all my life seen such defeat.”

Grace had been anticipating bad news, but the details hit her hard. Colin was stationed in France. Had he been at Dunkirk as well?

But she didn’t voice such concerns, not when they matched the worry carved on his mother’s face.

Every day thereafter, Mrs. Weatherford went with the other WVS ladies to aid the BEF returning to London, and every night she returned depleted of all her energy and spirit.

The few times she was home, the phone rang seemingly without end as women with sons and husbands in Colin’s division in France exchanged horror stories and gossip from some of the few men who had returned.