Glancing up, he saw it was Sylvia. Instantly he felt a wash of guilt, that she’d been dealing with such difficult circumstances at home and here he was thinking about Kitty. Sylvia’s expression was strained, although she smiled at the sight of him. ‘Hello, Frank.’

‘Sylvia!’ He moved swiftly around the desk, hesitating to put his arms round her as he wasn’t sure who else was in that part of the office. ‘Did you have a good Christmas? I didn’t know you’d be back so soon.’

She tried to maintain her smile but it didn’t work. Her mouth trembled and she looked away, reaching for her handkerchief. ‘No, not really.’ She took a moment to gather herself. ‘Dad died. It’s all right, I was there, and so was my brother. He didn’t suffer. We were all prepared.’ She let out a deep breath. ‘Even so, it came as a surprise.’

‘Of course.’ Frank put his hand on her arm. ‘I’m so sorry. He was a good man, and he was lucky to have you all around him. Why are you back here? Didn’t you want to stay at home with your mother?’

Sylvia shook her head. ‘My brother has leave at the moment and so I’d rather come back here, do something useful, and then take more days when it’s time for the funeral and then after when my brother can’t be there. Mum will need me more then. I’ve talked to my superior officer, she agrees.’

Frank nodded slowly. That was a practical way of looking at it. He admired Sylvia for thinking so clearly while, if he knew her at all, wanting with every fibre of her being to be there with her mother in the family home. ‘You’re very brave,’ he said warmly. ‘We all have to carry on as best we can, don’t we.’

Sylvia shrugged. ‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s not brave. It’s just the best thing to do. But thank you, Frank.’ She looked up at him sadly.

‘Over Christmas as well. You poor thing.’ He took her hand and held it between both of his. ‘Is there anything I can do? Make you a cup of tea? Take you for a drink after work?’

Slowly she pulled her hand free. ‘I … I don’t think so. I don’t really feel like going out.’

Frank inwardly cursed himself. ‘No. Of course not. Silly of me to suggest it. I just want to help you if I can, you know.’

‘I know.’ Sylvia looked up at the ceiling, the dullish bulb overhead. ‘Really, I don’t think there’s anything. I’m going to get through the next few days and then … well, I’ll go back home.’ She paused, turned away a little, then faced him again. ‘As a matter of fact …’

Frank met her eyes. ‘What is it, Sylvia? Is something else wrong?’