She had stared at it, held it up to the light, sniffed it to see if it had any trace of lemon juice or substances said to be used in invisible ink, even while telling herself not to be so stupid. It was most likely a silly joke.

She’d put it to one side and left it overnight, half believing when she woke up that she’d dreamt the whole thing. But she hadn’t. It was still there, curling in the dry air. In the morning light the ink looked a little faded, as if the message had been written some while ago. Could this letter possibly be from the one person that she desperately wanted it to be? Freddy – her brother – missing presumed dead.

This was all too much to decipher on her own. She didn’t want to bother Peter – and he might not even be ashore right now. The only person she could think of who might have an idea was Kitty. There was no chance that she’d risk putting the details in a letter, but she could talk to her in person. She was owed some leave. She could go to see her parents, a long-overdue visit. And meet Kitty at Crewe, if they could co-ordinate it. She just had to stress how urgent it was, without unduly alarming her friend. She thought she’d got the tone about right, and with nothing that would annoy the censor. Nodding firmly, she slipped the letter into an envelope and made her way down the rickety uncarpeted stairs to post it.

She hated allowing herself to be taunted by false hope, but ever since Freddy had disappeared, she had thought about the ways in which he might make contact, if by a miracle he had survived. Of course it was a long shot. But she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that it was what she wanted to be behind this strange little note.

‘Well, well, if it isn’t Tommy Callaghan.’

Tommy looked up from where he’d been kicking a stone along the dock road. He squinted into the sun. The voice sounded familiar but it took him a moment to put a name to the face. He realised that the man had changed since he’d last seen him – he’d almost gone bald. His scalp shone pink through the remainder of his closely cropped hair.

‘Hello, Alfie,’ he said.

‘How’s it going then?’ said Alfie. ‘I heard you were coming back. Home for good, are you?’

Tommy shrugged. ‘Suppose so.’

‘Bet you’re glad to be back in the thick of things and not stuck out in the sticks any more,’ Alfie went on.

Tommy looked dubious. ‘How do you know where I was?’