‘It was a team effort, so it’s thanks to everybody,’ said Dolly happily, pushing a grey curl behind her ear. She knew Rita had really wanted her first Christmas with Ellen to be spent in their own home, and with Jack there, but he hadn’t been able to get leave. He’d brought them plenty of rum on his last visit, and he’d persuaded a comrade from the Fleet Air Arm who had been lucky enough to come home for Christmas to come round with extra rum and presents for the children, but obviously it wasn’t the same as having him there. Still, she could see Rita had had a good time, and to be honest Dolly had been glad of the use of Rita’s kitchen, not to mention the extra pairs of hands. They would never have been able to make enough roast potatoes otherwise.

Dolly sighed contentedly. They’d squeezed as many people as possible round the kitchen table, extended with side tables and whatever else they could find of the right height. Somehow they had all fitted in. At some point they were going to have to work out who owned which plates and cutlery, as lots of items had been borrowed as well, but that could keep. She didn’t intend to move from her chair until she absolutely had to.

‘Sit down, Violet, and take the weight off your feet,’ she called across to her daughter-in-law, who was rising in a cumbersome fashion. ‘You’ve done enough. We wouldn’t have had any parsnips if it hadn’t been for you peeling and chopping them all.’

Violet gave her a smile, but it was mixed with a grimace. ‘I’ll just stretch my legs a bit. I’m more comfortable when I stand at the moment, for some reason.’ She heaved herself fully to her feet and slowly went to stand against the sideboard.

Rita went across and stood with her. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked quietly.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Violet at once.

Rita looked at her dubiously. She could see that wasn’t completely true, but recognised that Violet didn’t want to make a fuss. She remembered what her own last few weeks of pregnancy had been like and sympathised. Little Ellen was lying in a corner, in an improvised cot made of a drawer from the back kitchen, lined with knitted blankets, fast asleep in the middle of all the noise and chatter. Soon Violet would have her own baby, and she knew how deeply her friend had longed for this. She just had to get through the next few weeks.

‘Would you like a glass of water?’ she said.

‘Oh, no, don’t worry about me. I’ll get it. It might be a bit cooler out in the back kitchen,’ Violet said hastily, obviously not wanting to draw attention to herself.