‘I know what you mean,’ Sunday agreed. John was hovering about the phone like a ghost, praying for it to ring with good news of his grandson, but so many people had been incarcerated in Belsen it was taking some time to get all the names of the survivors. Livvy was phoning daily for an update but all they could do was wait and pray for good news.

David meanwhile had been transferred to a field hospital in France after D Day the year before. Now the doctors and nurses didn’t have as many casualties each day and were concentrating on the patients they already had. In his most recent letter to Kathy he had written:

Word has it that it’s almost over and everyone here is optimistic. And then when I come home, I shall have a surprise for you, my darling, and God willing we shall never be parted again.

The letter lifted Kathy’s spirits considerably and now everyone waited for news of the end of the war with anticipation.

And then at last, on 8 May came the announcement they had all been waiting for. Vast crowds had gathered in the streets around Whitehall and Buckingham Palace for the Prime Minister’s announcement at 3 p.m. when he told them, ‘The German war is at an end, hostilities will cease at midnight.’

Suddenly sirens and hooters were sounded all over the country. Bonfires were lit and pubs and churches were filled to bursting. Flags and brightly coloured bunting in red, white and blue appeared everywhere, and in London, Winston Churchill’s car was swamped by a jubilant crowd as he made his way to the House of Commons. Later he made an impromptu speech from a balcony above Whitehall. ‘This is your victory!’ he told the cheering mass. ‘God bless you all!’

Beside him, Labour’s Ernest Bevin led the crowds in singing, ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow!’

Soon after, King George and Queen Elizabeth appeared on the palace balcony with Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret to wave to a rapturous crowd and, that evening, for the first time since war had been announced, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament were floodlit, while searchlights illuminated the sky. Britain was in a party mood and in London the streets were full of people dancing and singing, and there were chains of people doing the hokey-cokey, or singing ‘Knee’s Up Mother Brown’ as they trailed behind anyone who possessed a musical instrument. Then at midnight when Big Ben sounded the hour of the official ceasefire a great roar went up, the tugs on the River Thames sounded their sirens, fireworks exploded, and bells pealed all across the land.

Everyone at Treetops had waited up to hear the excitement on the radio and their eyes were damp as they hugged each with sheer relief.