‘Can I come wiv’ yer?’ Bobby asked hopefully, but this time Giles shook his head.

‘I’m afraid not but I shan’t be too long and, while I’m gone, I’m sure George will find you something to do.’

‘I certainly shall, you can help me with some diggin’,’ George assured him. He had been clearing some of the lawn in prep­aration for another vegetable patch as everyone had been instructed to do. After all, who knew when and if rationing would come into force again? They already had a very productive vegetable garden but as George had pointed out, ‘What we can’t eat some of the villagers will be glad of!’

Cook fetched some of her homemade biscuits to the table and everything else was forgotten as Bobby dived in, much to everyone’s amusement.

Once Giles had left to get ready for his outing, and George and Bobby had gone back to work, Sunday went through to see John, who was in his study poring over some paperwork. As always, his face lit up at the sight of her.

‘You must be sick of me dropping in.’ She grinned. She had called in at least once a day since the children had arrived, to check that all was well.

He shook his head. ‘Never!’ His smile faded and standing up he went to close the door quietly behind her.

‘Sunday … there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a very long time, and I suppose now is as good a time as any …’

She stared at him curiously. Whatever he was about to say was clearly something serious and she wanted to put him at ease. ‘Ask away then, I don’t bite,’ she told him with an encouraging smile.

He gulped, making his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he ran a finger around the inside of his collar as if it were suddenly too tight for him. ‘The thing is … I, er … I’ve grown very fond of you since I moved here.’

‘And I’m fond of you too,’ she assured him.

‘Ah! So, I was wondering … what I mean is … Oh damn! I’m making a right mess of this so I’m just going to come right out and say it. I love you, Sunday Branning. I think I have since the minute I clapped eyes on you, and I was wondering if you would do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?’

Sunday’s eyes grew wide as her hand rose to cover her mouth and for a moment, she was sure that she must have been hearing things … but no, one look at his face assured her that she hadn’t. John was quite serious.

‘I … I don’t know what to say,’ she faltered. ‘Don’t you think we’re rather old to be contemplating marriage?’