‘Oh dear.’ His words once again brought back memories of when Tom and Ben had gone off to war. Ben … just the thought of his betrayal still cut like a knife, for no matter what he thought, she had loved him as her own. But that had clearly been what had festered in him for all these years. She had to admit that she hadn’t taken it well when she’d discovered he was Tom’s son, and he had obviously never forgiven her for that, despite the many years she’d cared for him before that. And when he’d returned from the war, he’d been so distant; it was as if he’d closed his heart to her. Then, once Kathy and Livvy had come along within months of each other, she’d always suspected he’d been jealous of them, although it hadn’t been so much of a problem at the time as he’d had Maggie. But then he’d had the heartbreak of losing Maggie and his son, followed by the death of his father to contend with. Even so, she would never have believed him capable of stealing everything from her.

‘I was wondering if you’d drive into Nuneaton with me to pick them up from the church hall tomorrow?’ John asked her, bringing her thoughts sharply back to the present. ‘To be honest, I’m not that brilliant with children. It’s been a long time since our son was born and my wife did most of the caring back then. She always wanted at least four children, but Giles’s father was our only one and when he was killed, I think it would have killed her too if she hadn’t had Giles to take care of.’

‘Of course I will.’ Sunday pushed gloomy thoughts of Ben aside and smiled. ‘I’m sure the children will be delightful, and Edith will probably do most of the looking after of them, if I know her. She’s so good with the twins. It’s such a shame that she never had children of her own.’

And so immediately after lunch the next day she and John drove to the church hall in town. It was total chaos inside. Bewildered children with their names written on brown cardboard labels hanging on string about their necks were sitting on chairs around the walls of the hall as the women who had escorted them from London tried to place them with the families who had volunteered to take them in. It appeared that most of the children had already been chosen or allocated.

‘Name?’ one of the harassed-looking women said shortly as John and Sunday entered the room.

‘John Willerby.’ John’s eyes scanned the rows of children, wondering which two were the ones he had come for.