‘Ben is very sad about the way he looks now,’ she explained instead. ‘So perhaps you could avoid staring at him or mentioning his scar, eh? Could you do that for me?’

Harry shrugged and glanced at his brother. ‘’S’pose so,’ he muttered, wondering what all the fuss was about. But then Tom, who Harry was sure was yet another war hero because he was leaning heavily on a stick and limping, was leading him inside, and in his excitement to see his new home he forgot all about Ben, for now at least.

‘Something tells me we’re going to have our hands full with our new charges,’ Sunday told Tom with a twinkle in her eye that evening when all the children were tucked safely in bed.

He nodded and grinned, thinking again what a shame it was that he and Sunday had never been blessed with a child of their own, although she had been a wonderful mother to so many others. But then he knew he should be grateful for what they had. Ben was home, thank God, even if it wasn’t the same Ben they had waved away to war. At one time, Tom had hoped his son might marry and produce grandchildren for him and Sunday to love, but the chances of that happening were slim now. Since he wouldn’t go past the gates of Treetops, how was he to meet any young ladies? So many young chaps had war wounds and permanent injuries, so he was not alone and had nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary!

‘You don’t think the children will make Ben feel worse about his scars, do you?’ Sunday asked then.

Tom shook his head. ‘Not at all. I don’t wish to sound cruel but he’s got to come to terms with it sometime and the children might just help him do that. The boys think he’s a real hero!’

Sunday hoped that he would be proved to be right.

It had taken them months and months to nurse Ben back to health once he had come out of hospital, and his outer healing was almost as good as it would ever get. His inner healing, however, Tom feared would never take place. Ben still suffered from terrible nightmares where he was trapped in the trenches, covered in flies and rats, or of thrusting his bayonet into some young German’s heart on the battlefield. He had seen and suffered too much for a young chap his age, as had thousands of other young men, but that sadly was the cost of war and those who had so far survived it must pay that terrible price.

Chapter Fifty-Two

On a gloriously sunny morning in mid-June, Maggie found Kitty being sick into the lavatory yet again, and this time she had to voice her fear.

‘Kitty,’ she began tentatively. ‘You do know that you’ve missed another course, don’t you? How many is that now?’

‘Three,’ Kitty answered dully, before rinsing her mouth.