‘Things are finally working out,’ Sunday told Tom with an ecstatic smile on her face. ‘Kitty and Maggie are home and the best of friends. Who would ever have thought it, eh? When you look back to how jealous Maggie was of Kitty when she was little, I mean.’

Tom grinned. ‘They were just children,’ he pointed out. ‘And do you know what? I think Maggie loved Kitty even then. It’s just that she so desperately wanted a family of her very own to belong to. It’s heartbreaking how things turned out with the Daweses, but at least we can make sure she feels loved from here on in.’

That afternoon, Big Ben in London struck one o’clock after four years of silence and suddenly everywhere was a blaze of colour with flags of every Allied nation flying from hastily erected flagpoles on hundreds of rooftops. The King and Queen attracted huge crowds as they took an informal drive through the centre of London to Hyde Park, and thousands of people crowded into Downing Street to cheer the Prime Minister, Lloyd George, and his cabinet. Blackout curtains were ripped down, and suddenly all the shop windows were ablaze with light. It was truly a day to rejoice and by the time they went to bed that night everyone, even Kitty, was in a happy frame of mind.

‘I’m going to make sure that this will be the best Christmas that Treetops Manor has ever seen,’ Tom told his wife as he took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly and she didn’t doubt him for a minute.

Two weeks before Christmas, Tom and George drove into Nuneaton market and returned home with an impressive specimen of a Christmas tree. Despite the weather, which was grey and dismal and very, very cold, nothing could dampen their spirits.

‘But wherever shall we put it?’ Sunday asked as she stared in awe at the giant tree.

Kitty, who was now well overdue for the birth of her child, and Maggie had come from the drawing room to see it and Maggie giggled. ‘I reckon it will have to stay right here in the hall,’ she declared. ‘It’s far too tall to fit in any of the other rooms – unless you want to chop some off it.’

‘I will not chop any off, young lady,’ Tom retorted. ‘And I think it will look splendid in the hall. Ben, be a good chap and go and find a good sturdy bucket for it, will you?’

Ben shot off to do as he was told as Kitty waddled back into the drawing room, closely followed by Maggie, who was becoming really concerned about her. Only the night before, Kitty had suddenly said, ‘You will keep an eye out for the baby, won’t you, Maggie?’

‘You’ll be able to do that yourself,’ Maggie had told her, but it had worried her all the same. Was Kitty trying to tell her in a roundabout way that she didn’t expect to survive the birth? But that was nonsense! Kitty might be small and fragile, but thousands of women her build had given birth with no complications – so why should she be any different? Sunday and Tom already had the best doctor and midwife in the district on standby and now Maggie just hoped that the birth would soon be over.