Gwen shakes her head. ‘Tom …’

‘Will be fine.’ Nora rests her hand on the cow’s dun-coloured rump. ‘One late night isn’t going to hurt. He’ll remember this day for the rest of his life.’

‘I don’t know …’

‘Even Muriel’s going …’

Gwen closes her eyes. She has no desire to join in the celebrations. She is quite content to remain at the farm with a hot cocoa, listening to the wireless. She wants to avoid her neighbours, not join them. The teats fall dry under her gentle ministrations.

‘You go …’ she says, arching her back to ease the ache in her shoulders.

‘I want you to come with me. You never get out and you’ll regret missing this, I know you will.’ Gwen knows full well she will have no such regrets and Nora clearly sees that conviction housed in her expression, for she hastily adds, ‘Today is history in the making. You owe Tom the opportunity of this experience if nothing else.’

Gwen lets out a gusty sigh. Nora knows full well she would sacrifice anything for Tom, and it is impossible to ignore the importance of the day. His entire life has been lived in war. Today he has at least a partial taste of peace.

‘All right.’ Her concession rings hollow off the brick walls of the milking parlour. She smooths her palm over the cow’s flank as she rises, stooping to pick up the pail, the weight of it pulling her arm. ‘I’ll come. But I can’t promise I’ll stay long. As soon as Tom—’

Nora cuts her off with a squeal. ‘Say no more! We’ll have some fun tonight, Mrs Ellison!’ She dances up the aisle to the scales hanging on the wall. Hooking up the pail, she gathers up the pencil that swings from a grubby length of string attached to the open ledger on the neighbouring shelf. When the scale needle settles, she licks the lead and records the result. ‘I promise you we’ll make it a night to remember,’ she continues, lifting the pail clear and turning to upend it into the cooler behind her. ‘Mr Hitler is kaput, and we are out of the woods at last!’

Gwen forces a smile as she takes her place at the scales. How can she possibly explain to Nora that peace now threatens everything she has held dear for the past six years?

War hasn’t endangered Gwen. War has kept her safe.

Chapter Six

Jack

June 1939

Jack shucks off his knapsack and starts running.

The thin soles of his boots hammer down on the tarmacadam as his arms pump at his side. The horse’s screams are accompanied by a tattoo of panicked hooves. He skims the bend at full pelt and skids to a stop.