Kitty looked around at the station as they drew in, recognising it as Crewe. She had changed here on several occasions and it was always crowded, its platforms thronged with servicemen and -women in all sorts of uniforms, many with big kitbags. There were often wounded personnel being escorted to hospitals around the country. No wonder the one on Linacre Lane in Bootle was so keen for Rita to return. The knock-on effect of D-day and the ongoing campaign in France meant a steady stream of injured Allies returning for treatment, and everywhere was feeling the strain.

It was also the station where she’d first met Laura, she thought, and laughed at the memory. Kitty had been nervous about leaving home for the first time, shut in a carriage with some young and impudent soldiers, when a very posh voice had asked her to shove up, then the young woman – Laura, as it transpired – had handed round cake. Now Kitty was meeting her here again, but she was unsure what the urgency was. Still, she knew Laura wasn’t given to panicking or hare-brained schemes, so she must really need to see her about something. Kitty had been happy to give up one of her precious days of leave to learn what it was all about.

She checked her watch as she left the train. Laura should be arriving in a few minutes if her train was on time, but Kitty didn’t hold out much hope of that. She wandered along to the end of the platform to get some fresh air, away from the milling crowd. A small group of young women in civvies stood anxiously waiting, and Kitty wondered if they were expecting the arrival of wounded loved ones. How hard that must be. Yet at least they wouldn’t be left high and dry like poor Violet.

By a miracle only twenty minutes late the London train was announced, and Kitty positioned herself for a good view of everyone getting off. It was bound to be busy and she didn’t want to miss her friend. As it turned out there was little chance of that, as Laura had chosen her most colourful dress in a bright geometric print in red, white and blue.

‘Do you think I look terrifically patriotic?’ she greeted Kitty, swinging a neat leather weekend bag by its handle. ‘I chose it specially. I like to think I bring a little cheer into the travelling public’s life. What do you say?’ She twirled theatrically and several more dowdily clad women turned and frowned.

‘I bet you do that all right,’ grinned Kitty. ‘And there was I wondering if I’d be able to spot you. Come on, let’s grab a cuppa, there’s a counter over there.’