‘I don’t know, it makes yer wonder what the world is comin’ to,’ Cissie grumbled as she sat in the small garden of the lodge with Sunday one sunny Sunday afternoon in early August browsing through the newspaper. It was a beautiful day with white powder-puff clouds floating across a clear, blue sky. She worked five mornings a week now at Treetops and often came over for a chat with Sunday in the afternoons. ‘It’s made a mockery o’ the monarchy since Edward married that American, Wallis Simpson.’

Sunday smiled. They had heard nothing else since the month before when the marriage had taken place in France. ‘An’ now my George reckons trouble is brewin’ abroad. He says he won’t be surprised if it don’t end in a war.’

‘Surely not,’ Sunday answered with a worried frown. It wasn’t the first time George had prophesied war. ‘How could the trouble abroad possibly affect us?’

Cissie shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea, but that’s what my George reckons an’ he’s usually pretty up on world affairs. He reads every newspaper he can get his hands on from cover to cover every single night.’

Just then Kathy waddled into the garden holding her back. She still had about another seven weeks before she was due, but she was so enormous that Sunday was on edge. Especially every time she thought back to what had happened to Kathy’s mother.

‘Phew, this heat is killing me,’ Kathy complained as she flopped heavily onto a chair beside them and swatted a wasp away. ‘And just look at my ankles,’ she groaned. ‘They’re like balloons.’

‘Hm, yer should be restin’ wi’ yer feet up,’ Cissie scolded. ‘An’ lookin’ at the size of yer I’ll eat me hat if yer go another seven weeks. Are yer quite sure yer’ve got yer dates right?’

‘I think so.’ Kathy gratefully took the glass of lemonade her mother was holding out to her and after taking a long drink she asked, ‘So how did the dinner with Mr Willerby go last night? I must have been asleep when you came in because I didn’t hear you.’