Just a fortnight later, Kath and the rest of the family attended a service of remembrance for the five navy men at St John’s, the larger of the town’s churches. Although in Kath’s view it was not a patch on St Peter and St Paul’s, the more ancient and atmospheric church in Old Felixstowe, it was just as well they chose this one because it was packed, with standing room only at the back and a full turnout of uniformed men from the seaplane station.

A naval band played sombre numbers that had Kath and Ma in tears before the service even began. She imagined Ray must be sitting in heaven with his ears burning, so fulsome were the words of his commodore, who listed numerous examples of his exemplary and courageous service and the personal attributes that had made him one of the seaplane force’s most remarkable pilots.

There were a few familiar faces from the Manor among the crowd, but no sign of Vic Mackensie. Johnnie’s name was not even mentioned, which she thought terribly sad.

Shortly after this, Mark’s RAF acceptance letter arrived saying that he would soon be advised where and when to report for initial training. Ma was distraught, of course, but Kath knew it was the best possible thing. Although her brother had continued to function, refusing to take any time off – ‘can’t afford to get a poor attendance record now’ – getting up each day and going to work, he seemed to be only half in the world.

Friends would call by to invite him out, but he always refused. Kath tried to persuade him, saying it would be a distraction at least; but the one time he followed her advice he returned well after midnight, so drunk that he couldn’t even make it upstairs. In the morning they found him asleep on the living room floor, stinking of booze.

One Saturday afternoon Kath heard a voice calling her name and turned to see Nancy, flashy as ever. Anyone would think she was dressed for a big night out in London rather than a little shopping trip to Felixstowe High Street. ‘Before you sound off, I just wanted to say how sorry I was to hear about Captain Burrows,’ she said.

‘Yes, it’s a terrible loss,’ Kath managed to mumble. If only looks could kill, she thought to herself.

‘Especially for your brother,’ Nancy said. ‘I’ve heard he’s not been taking it well.’

Kath turned on her heel and walked away as quickly as she could. Thank goodness Mark would soon be away from it.

Two weeks later it was Mark’s leaving party at the seaplane station. He arrived home ‘three sheets to the wind’, as Pa put it, and promptly fell asleep on the sofa, snoring loudly for the rest of the evening, but no one really minded.

The night before he was due to leave for training, Ma splashed out on a joint of beef roasted with all the trimmings, followed by Mark’s favourite, a steamed treacle pudding and custard. He’d been given a bottle of champagne as a leaving gift and they opened it as an aperitif, followed by red wine with the meal. At around eleven, Ma and Pa stumbled unsteadily upstairs to bed, and Kath was about to follow them.