Blinking back tears, a wave of homesickness and despair washed over her. Only now could she admit to herself that she deeply regretted Ruby ever sending for her. The dreams she had secretly harboured of being reunited with a mother who had been forced to give her up because of genuine hardship had long since died. If truth be told, Ruby had no time for her and sadly Kitty knew it. And yet, something made her stay and it wasn’t only Richard. She actually felt sorry for Ruby. There was a certain vulnerability about the woman now that made Kitty feel protective of her. She supposed that was what made Miss Fox stay with her too. It certainly wasn’t because of the way she was treated, that was for sure, for Ruby could often be heard bellowing at her from all over the house.

With a sigh, Kitty stared at the rain-lashed windows.

It was mid-January 1916 when Tom received a letter asking him to report for a medical to see if he was fit enough to return to his unit. It sent Sunday spinning into a panic.

‘But your foot isn’t properly healed yet,’ she objected.

Tom smiled at her as he stroked her hair. He was sure she grew more beautiful with each passing year and the thought of leaving her again was like a physical pain, but he knew that every man was needed.

‘You know I have no choice,’ he told her softly. ‘If I don’t report for the medical I shall be classed as AWOL and we wouldn’t want that, would we? I may be many things, sweetheart, but I’m not a coward.’

The words made his thoughts turn to Hugh Tate and he glanced at Cissie who was dusting her way around the drawing room. Up until now he had shied away from telling her about her son, but now he decided that she deserved to know that he was dead.

‘Cissie, come and sit with me for a moment, would you?’ He patted the seat at the side of him and Cissie did as she was told, wondering what it was that he wanted.

‘The thing is,’ he began, finding this much more difficult than he could ever have imagined. ‘Before I was injured I noticed that your son was stationed in the same place as me.’

‘He was?’ Cissie clasped her hands together as she beamed at Kitty. ‘Didn’t I tell you he would have gone to fight?’ She looked at Tom again then with hope shining in her eyes and suddenly he knew what he must do.

‘He, err … I don’t quite know how to tell you this, but he – he was killed in battle. Your son died a hero, Cissie, and before he died he asked me to tell you that he was sorry for any trouble he’d caused you, and about the money he had borrowed from you. He intended to pay it back just as soon as he could.’