Taking the envelope from his limp hand she hastily opened it and then she started to cry. ‘He … he’s alive,’ she said croakily. ‘And even as we speak, he’s on his way to a hospital in Plymouth. It says they’ll send us an address where we can contact him in due course.’

John paled to the colour of lint and George rushed across to help him into a chair.

‘Cissie, make some tea and put plenty of sugar in it, he’s in shock,’ Sunday said urgently.

John’s breathing was shallow, and he was clutching his chest. ‘And, George, would you go and ring the doctor please?’ Sunday said as she knelt beside him chafing his hands and when he appeared to be a little calmer, she helped him into the drawing room and onto the sofa.

‘I … I can’t believe it,’ he gasped as tears slid unashamedly down his cheeks. ‘I prayed that he’d come home but I’d almost given up hope.’

‘Well, your prayers have been answered,’ she said softly. ‘And now you have to calm down or you’ll be ill and then you’ll be no good to him at all when he comes home, will you?’

He gave her a crooked smile and her heart sank as she saw the way one side of his lip had dropped. It was becoming increasingly clear that he had suffered another stroke.

The doctor confirmed it when he arrived shortly afterwards. ‘All you can do is get him up to bed and keep him quiet,’ he told them solemnly. Sunday nodded and as soon as the doctor had left with promises to come back the next day, she and George helped John up the stairs to his room.

As the day wore on John appeared to be calmer and they all hoped that he would come through the latest attack.

‘Poor chap has been living on his nerves,’ Edith said as they all sat together in the kitchen later that day. ‘But he’s a tough old bird, and he’ll come through it, you’ll see.’

They could only hope that she was right.

Two days later another telegram arrived informing them which hospital Giles was in and John became agitated again. ‘I should go and see him,’ he fretted, but Sunday shook her head. ‘You’re not well enough,’ she pointed out sensibly. ‘But I know someone who will go. We rang Livvy on the day we found out he was coming back, and she already has a forty-eight-hour pass on standby. I’ve no doubt that now we know where he is, she’ll be on a train to visit him like a shot.’

John was frustrated but could see the sense in what she said, so Sunday rang Livvy’s base.