‘God bless you,’ he said simply. ‘It’s a brave thing to do, to visit the battlefields. I admire your courage. But I can reassure you that most people find it brings them some peace.’

Despite her initial wariness, Ruby warmed to his down-to-earth approach. She had been so busy just trying to put one foot after another, to get through each day, one at a time, that she’d forgotten to look up. The war was over but there was no relief from the misery: men returning were injured, often unable to find work or housing. Newspapers talked of strikes and unrest, food was still rationed. What had it all been for, in the end? But if, as Major Wilson said, this trip would help her make sense of it all, then it would certainly be worth it.

The group was soon gathered – around ten people, mostly older than herself – and shepherded onto the Dover train in a carriage that reeked of cigarette smoke and orange peel. A great weight of almost visible sorrow seemed to hang in the air. She glanced around at her fellow travellers. Most were couples, so far as she could see, speaking in low voices to each other, or just sitting in silence, drawn and sallow-faced. A man with an eye patch sat with his pale waif of a wife. She caught a brief glimpse of another single woman, tall and rather glamorous with a glossy brown bob, like a movie star, in a flame-red jacket and matching hat with a flamboyant brim. Red? To the cemeteries? How inappropriate. Happily she did not seem to be in the same carriage.

Being in the group made her feel even more alone and she wished for the umpteenth time that she’d found the courage to refuse Alfred’s request. She found herself sitting opposite a couple eager to talk about their two sons, killed a year apart, in the fields of Flanders.

‘They gave their lives for King and Country,’ the man said. ‘That is our consolation.’

‘We want to find their graves,’ his wife added, her voice serrated with grief. ‘So we can tell them how much we . . .’ She tailed off, sniffing into her handkerchief.

‘Don’t trouble yourself so,’ the husband chided, squeezing her arm. ‘I told you we must be strong.’ It was like being with Albert and Ivy all over again.

By the end of the journey, Ruby had learned everything about their boys. She didn’t mind, only relieved that the couple seemed so utterly absorbed in their own loss and pride that they never asked her a single question. Or perhaps they were just being polite. She was afraid she might not be able to retain her composure if someone showed sympathy. This is just between me and Bertie, she said to herself.

Now, as she stood on the deck of the ship in the sunshine, her heart began to lift. The weeks of waiting and the almost paralysing anxiety had almost disappeared. The sky was an unblemished blue, the water only gently ruffled by the slightest of breezes. The bracing tang of seaweed and salt that she’d first inhaled on stepping from the train was now overlaid with reassuring smells of fresh paint and varnish.