For a split second Kitty’s heart dropped at the mention of Sylvia’s name, then she told herself not to be silly and to be thankful that Frank had been out with the pretty young Wren, or he wouldn’t have been here to come to her rescue. She should simply tell him to go on his way, that she was all right. But here he was, looking at her with those warm, caring eyes, and suddenly the thought of his company, even if only as far as the bus stop, seemed very appealing.

‘Yes, please,’ she said.

Tommy was pleased with his first session of PT. He could tell everyone was looking at him to see how he would cope, whether he was fit enough to cycle around the city all day. But years of helping on the farm had toned his muscles and he breezed through the exercises without a problem, barely breaking a sweat. He noticed one or two of the old timers nodding in approval. He wasn’t the only new recruit, and a couple of them seemed to be struggling, which drew several disapproving glances. He was glad he’d got through that part of the morning.

Now he was out on his first real job. ‘You do know where this address is, don’t you?’ his supervisor had said, unsure about the new boy in his team.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Tommy confidently. ‘It’s around the corner from Oriel Road station. I know it like the back of my hand.’ He’d set off at top speed, handling the red bike as if he’d had it for years, negotiating the potholes in the road, feeling the sun on his face. What a stroke of luck he’d got this job. He was going to enjoy himself, he could tell.

It took him no time at all to find the address and he swung himself off the bike, propping it against a low wall. This must be the door: a tarnished brass number 5 hung at a crooked angle above the letterbox. He rapped smartly on the wooden panel.

He noticed a net curtain twitch in the neighbouring house but couldn’t see more than an outline of a figure behind it. Now he could hear the sound of footsteps and the door opened. In front of him stood a young woman, pretty, with long chestnut hair neatly plaited, but in a threadbare apron and a print dress frayed at the edges. She must be about Sarah’s age. When she saw who he was, her face fell.

Tommy’s mood of happiness evaporated as the meaning of what he was about to do hit home. He knew he couldn’t show his feelings, though. He checked the name he’d been given and asked her: ‘Mrs Pelham? Mrs Vincent Pelham?’

‘Y-yes.’ The woman held her head up but her eyes were already beginning to fill with tears.