The rain battered his tear-streaked face as he lifted it to the lowering sky and bellowed his pain and wrath against the men who’d done such a thing – and against the all-seeing, all-loving God who’d turned a blind eye and let it happen. ‘Why, God?’ he stormed. ‘Why Danuta when it should have been me or those Nazi bastards?’ he yelled, his clenched fists raised to the heavens.

But there was no answer and Ron’s shoulders slumped as he lowered his head and wept.

12

The past week had been fraught with worry and tension, and as Peggy slowly walked back from Sunday mass with Daisy, she hoped that things would calm down; the weather would improve now they were into the fourth day of June, and the invasion would finally get under way. They’d all thought it had started the previous day when massed squadrons of aeroplanes had swarmed across the Channel, and warships had been sighted off the east coast – but it turned out it was simply another bombing raid on the Pas-de-Calais.

And yet, as the new week loomed, very few of Peggy’s worries had been resolved, and she suspected things wouldn’t improve for a while yet. Ron was moodier than ever, often disappearing early and not returning until after closing time at the Anchor. He’d still not heard a peep from Rosie, and although it obviously bothered him, Peggy had begun to wonder if there was something more serious on his mind. He didn’t look at all well and was often distracted, rarely dredging up a smile or rising to Cordelia’s gentle teasing. Peggy had tried to winkle out of him what was bothering him but, as usual, he refused to enlighten her, so she could only assume that whatever it was, he was determined to deal with it on his own.

Sarah and Rita were also causing her concern, for Sarah had gone very quiet the previous day after the post had arrived and had brushed off Peggy’s gentle questions, saying she was missing her mother, and wished wholeheartedly that they weren’t living on opposite sides of the world. But again, Peggy wondered if there was more to it.

As for Rita, she’d been enlivened by the Australian’s rather too regular company, and although Peter Ryan was utterly charming, Peggy fretted that he seemed to have a lot of free time considering he was supposed to be tutoring cadet pilots. Was he all that he seemed – or was she just being over-protective of Rita?