‘I’m afraid that’s a question none of us can answer,’ Sunday sighed. ‘But we won the last war and I’m sure with fine young men like Giles fighting for us we shall do the same this time.’

‘Of course, we will,’ Cook said. ‘And in the meantime, till you leave I intend to cook you all your favourites.’

‘That sounds good to me.’ Giles quickly drank the rest of his tea and slid from his chair. ‘But now if you’ll excuse me, I’d best go and break the news to Grandad.’

The women stood silently, each of them thinking the same: ‘Dear God, keep him safe!’

Later that afternoon, Edith went to collect the children from school, insisting that the walk would do them all good. She was amongst the first there, standing at the school railings waiting for the bell to ring.

Without even realising it there was a broad smile on her face. She had missed them terribly and the day had seemed endless, but the smile slipped away the second they walked out of the school and she clapped eyes on them. As usual Peggy was gripping tightly to her brother’s hand and she looked much as she had that morning. But the same couldn’t be said for Bobby for he looked as if he too had been in the war. His tie was skew-whiff, there was a hole in the knee of his brand-new trousers and he had the beginnings of a black eye forming.

A teacher was walking with them and, once they reached Edith, she drew her to one side to tell her, ‘I’m afraid there was a small altercation in the playground this afternoon between Bobby and a child from the same area of London as him.’

Bobby scowled at her as he scuffed at the ground with the toe of his shoe.

‘I see, an’ has this boy been dealt with?’ Edith asked indignantly.

‘I have spoken to the family he is staying with,’ the teacher assured her. ‘And hopefully this will be an end to it. Isn’t that so, Bobby?’

He sniffed. ‘All depends on wevver or not he says bad fings about me ma again,’ he shot back defensively.

The teacher shook her head and after a nod at Edith she strode away as Edith turned the children towards home. ‘So, who’s goin’ to tell me what’s gone on then?’

‘Eddie Burrows called our ma a whore! What’s a whore, Aunty Edith?’ Peggy asked innocently as colour bled into Edith’s cheeks.

‘It’s a … er …’ For one of the very rare times in her life Edith was lost for words. ‘Look, let’s get home an’ have a look at that eye, shall we? It looks nasty.’