‘Come back inside and sit down, then we’ll discuss it like adults,’ he suggested. ‘Can’t say fairer than that. We’ll sit down at the table and talk about it man to man, and then if you still feel like signing up after the end of that, we’ll have to see.’

Tommy looked at him dubiously, but then accepted the flattery of being called a man and pushed past his brother to reach the table first. He pulled out a chair and turned it round so he could rest his elbows on the back. His expression was still mutinous.

Danny sat down opposite him and put Jack’s letter back in its envelope, folding it carefully, playing for time. He had a strong sense that if he gave his little brother a few minutes he would calm down and not follow through on his rash threat.

‘Right,’ he said slowly. ‘Before you commit yourself to anything, let’s see what the options are.’ He paused but Tommy just glared, not saying anything. ‘There are lots of other things you could do that would be equally useful, you know – vital to the war effort.’

In reply, Tommy just kicked his foot against the table leg.

‘For example,’ Danny said, ‘Sarah says they’re always short of porters at the hospital.’

Tommy looked up sharply. ‘Well, if Sarah says it then it must be true,’ he snapped.

Danny felt a surge of anger rush through him. The very idea that Tommy could be rude about their neighbour, whom he’d known and liked since he was a baby and who had always been especially kind to him, was shocking. His blood boiled at the insult to her. But he held on to his temper. ‘Of course it is. Nearly everyone who’s left is over forty, and some of them can’t lift heavy loads any more. And you know very well that the hospitals have been bombed. It’s not a cushy number.’

‘Mmmmm,’ Tommy mumbled, glancing away. He didn’t want to work in a hospital. For a start lots of people would know Sarah or Rita, so his family would find out about every mistake he made. Also, though he would never have admitted it out loud, he was a bit squeamish. He’d helped out Seth and Joan on the farm, but he had often had to look away at the more sickening moments, like when Bessie the goat had complications giving birth to her kids, or a fox got into the hen house. He didn’t think he’d last long in a hospital. There would be blood, and worse, and bad smells. He would never live it down if he fainted and someone told Sarah.

‘Maybe,’ he prevaricated.