Danny nodded. ‘Well, like he said, they’ve reached inland as far as Caen already. And there hasn’t been much loss of life.’ Of course he knew that the reality behind the headlines might not be so rosy, but he wasn’t going to say that here, not in front of this group of people, who meant more to him than just about anyone else in the world. He was acutely aware of those missing from the company: Eddy and Jack.

Dolly nodded solemnly, her face etched with worry, but saying nothing about her fears.

‘Right, then.’ Violet pulled down the blind on the back window as Sarah moved to light the gas lamp. ‘I’ll get back to the spuds.’ She picked up her peeler once more.

Danny looked at Kitty. ‘We’d best get back – we’ve got work in the morning. Thanks for fetching us, Sar.’ He took a moment to observe her face, checking to see how she felt about the latest news.

Sarah smiled, taking it in her stride. ‘You’re welcome. Shall I pick up that tin tomorrow, Kitty?’

The women made arrangements for the following day, while Danny rerolled his shirt sleeves. He was heartened by the news and to see normal life resuming – but his thoughts were far away, over the sea in France, with the brave fighters now embarked on their biggest operation yet.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Violet held up the old knitted scarf to the daylight streaming through her bedroom window. She looked at it critically, then refolded it and put it back in the bag. It didn’t fit the bill. She rummaged around in the collection Dolly kept of unused clothes or bits and pieces that could be remade until she came across a softer garment. Pulling it out of the pile she saw it was a shawl in pale green. That would be just the thing.

Baby Ellen was getting bigger by the day, and beginning to outgrow all the clothes that her doting extended family had made for her. Violet knew she herself was no great shakes at knitting, but she could help by unravelling the yarn of something that wasn’t being worn, and then someone more expert could reshape it into a little garment. Dolly or Sarah, perhaps. Kitty wouldn’t have time, and Nancy had never been seen to pick up two needles, much less do anything useful with them. Then again, she told herself sternly, Nancy had been noticeably subdued of late. Perhaps the news from across the channel was finally sinking in and making her more responsible. She shook her head. Pigs might fly.