‘Infection has set in,’ the doctor informed him. He wasn’t really surprised. The conditions surgeons were forced to cope with in the field hospitals were far from ideal and infections were rife. ‘Never mind, old chap. Just try to hold on in there. Soon as we land we’ll get you transported home and then I’ve no doubt your wife will give you the best of care.’ Even though Tom was gravely ill, his injuries did not warrant a bed in one of the military hospitals. These were reserved for the more serious wounds and even then, there were nowhere near enough beds.

‘I’m all … all right.’ Pains were shooting up his leg but thoughts of home made him grit his teeth bravely.

‘That’s the ticket.’ The doctor patted his arm approvingly and moved on to the next patient as Tom tried to sleep. When he did eventually manage to drop off, his dreams were weird and mixed. Sunday was there, and Kitty and Ben, and his lips curved in a smile. But then he was back on the field watching Cissie’s son fall into the mud and he began to thrash about. He had just told her that Hugh had died a coward’s death and she was inconsolable.

‘Wake up, Corporal Branning. We’re in port now and going to transfer you to an ambulance. Can you hear me?’

He started awake, his face drenched in sweat and found himself staring up into the face of a nurse with a kindly smile. He nodded dizzily, and then he was being lifted onto a stretcher and once more sleep claimed him.

It was late that evening when the transport he was in turned into the drive of Treetops.

‘Very nice home you’ve got here, matey,’ the jolly stretcher-bearer remarked as he peered through the trees. ‘This is goin’ to be a wonderful surprise for your missus. She’ll have you right as rain in no time, no doubt.’

Tom felt a surge of joy as he nodded weakly and then they were pulling up at the bottom of the steps and the driver hopped out to run up and knock on the door.

It was Cissie who opened it and when the man told her why they were there she squealed with delight and ran back into the house, all of a flap, to find Sunday.

‘Tom!’ Suddenly his wife was there, and strangely the pain didn’t feel quite so acute. She clutched his hand as the driver told her the extent of his injuries and gave advice for the treatment and then Tom was stretchered inside and up to their bedroom. Once the transport men had left, leaving strict instructions for her to get their own doctor to see him as soon as possible, Sunday made sure he had a cup of tea and hot buttered toast first before washing him from head to toe, with many changes of warm water and using her own soap, before drying him, rebandaging his wound and helping him into a clean pair of pyjamas. As he settled back onto the feather mattress and pillows, enjoying the warmth of the roaring fire, Tom felt truly as if he had died and gone to heaven.