Tommy handed her the telegram and she immediately scanned what it said. A single sob escaped her.

‘Oh, no. Not my Vince. Not Vince.’

Tommy squirmed awkwardly. He shuffled his feet, not sure what to say.

The woman slumped against the doorframe and shut her eyes. Then, as if remembering where she was, she felt in her patch pocket and drew out a small coin. She handed it to him. ‘For your trouble,’ she said very quietly.

‘Oh, no, I can’t …’ From the state of her clothes, Tommy could tell she could scarcely afford to part with even the lowest-value coin, but she grabbed his hand insistently and pressed it into his palm.

‘Yes. Please take it. Vince would want me to.’ Her teary eyes met his and he knew this was something she needed to do for her husband. He couldn’t say no.

‘Thank you, missus. Now I have to go.’ He picked up his bike as quickly as he could, as the neighbour’s net curtain twitched again. He hoped the neighbour was friendly and would help the devastated young woman, whose world he had just brought crashing down.

Cycling along past Oriel Road, he replayed the conversations he’d had with Danny and Kitty about this job, and how it would require responsibility and tact. He’d said ‘yes’ and ‘of course’ to them, but hadn’t really thought what it would mean. Now he had a better idea of what they were on about and his heart sank. He knew he would see that woman’s face in his dreams for a very long time.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Danny picked up his pen from the kitchen table and scribbled in the final answer to the crossword in that day’s newspaper. He should have spotted it ages ago – it turned out to be an anagram and he could usually recognise one as soon as he read it. He must be distracted, he thought. His mind was still on the meeting he’d been called in to that afternoon.

He heard the door open and flicked the newspaper over to the front page. The headline said that Paris had been liberated. That must be good news all round. The allies had been making further inroads all across France, but to win back the capital was a huge success and he couldn’t help but smile at the account of the Parisians cheering the troops as they marched through the streets. It was enough to give everyone hope.

Kitty came through to the kitchen. ‘You beat me home, Danny. My bus broke down, and I ended up walking some of the way.’

‘Bad luck,’ he said automatically, wondering how he was going to broach the subject of his news. He hoped Kitty would understand and not be upset. It wasn’t as if he had much choice, when it came down to it. ‘The kettle’s just boiled if you want a cuppa.’