‘We will,’ said Pop, glancing to where the big pram stood, one baby at either end of it, tucked in tight. Megan had fastened bunting to the handle. ‘If they turn out anything like as well as our five, they’ll have no trouble at all. You’ve been the best mother any of them could ever have hoped for. I’m so proud of you.’

‘Pop!’ Dolly could feel herself blushing. She knew Pop loved her, but he was a man of few words and didn’t often say things like that. He was a treasure, to be sure. She knew she’d fallen lucky when she’d met him all those many years ago.

She looked around at her remaining children. There was Frank with his arm around Kitty – well, no surprise there. It only surprised her that they’d taken so long about it. There was Sarah, still in uniform, right up close to Danny – no surprise there either, though they’d said very little as yet. Of course Sarah was still her baby – but older now than Dolly herself had been when she’d married Pop. In all the upheaval of the war, Dolly had overlooked that. She’d become so accustomed to Sarah having to grow up fast and act far older than her years. Maybe now her youngest could let her hair down and reclaim some of that youth she’d lost.

Rita had worked late last night, but had done her turn making sandwiches and was now carrying baby Ellen around to see everybody. It was a shame that Jack was still on duty, but Rita had been thrilled to get a telegram from him, wishing he could be there with them for this longed-for day, but assuring her that he’d be home as soon as he could. Dolly smiled. She had no worries for Rita any more. She and Jack were so obviously meant for each other and baby Ellen was thriving. Ellen was waving her podgy arms at Maeve, who’d decided to join in the fun with her Empire Street friends. Dolly made a note to ask the lively nurse to play them some tunes later on.