Peggy explained as she heated up the gravy and took the plate out of the warming oven. Placing it in front of him, she grinned. ‘There. You weren’t expecting that, were you? And don’t give any to Harvey, he’s got his here,’ she added, putting the bowl down for the dog.

Ron beamed back at her and tucked in.

Peggy sat down and watched him eat, delighted that he was enjoying this surprise gift. She waited until he was mopping up the last of the gravy and juice with some bread, and then asked, ‘So, who were you visiting up there?’

He finished eating, and with a sigh of great pleasure, pushed his plate away and began to fill his pipe. ‘To be sure that was a feast, Peggy. There’s nothing better than one of your roasts.’

‘Ivy and Rita cooked it,’ she replied, almost dismissively, before repeating her question.

‘I was visiting our little Danuta,’ he said, ‘and before you get into a tizzy, you should know that she’s on the mend.’

Peggy was shocked into silence, and it was Fran who piped up. ‘What’s Danuta doing up there, Ron? It’s a service personnel hospital, and she’s a civilian.’

Ron got his pipe going and puffed clouds of sweet-scented smoke into the kitchen. ‘She got injured during a bombing raid, and had to be transferred there so the specialist surgeons could deal with her,’ he said smoothly.

‘How did you know she was there?’ Fran continued. She remembered Danuta very well from her stay at Beach View, and the struggle she’d had getting a job at the Cliffehaven General despite the fact she was a qualified theatre nurse.

‘A pal of mine told me,’ he replied.

‘How badly injured is she?’ demanded Cordelia.

‘Quite seriously,’ he admitted. ‘But the doctors at the Memorial are the best, and she’ll recover, although it might take a bit of time.’

‘How long has she been there?’ Peggy was close to tears.

‘A few days,’ said Ron, not quite meeting her steady gaze. ‘She was very poorly when she was first admitted, and I didn’t want to worry you in case …’

‘In case she didn’t pull through?’ Peggy’s anger rose swiftly to the surface and she glared at him. ‘How dare you keep this from me, Ronan Reilly? You know how much I care for that girl, but you kept all this to yourself. Would you have bothered to tell me if she’d died, or were you planning to keep that secret too?’

‘Now, Peggy, girl, there’s no need to take on so,’ he protested. ‘Of course I would have told you.’

‘But in your own good time – like everything else,’ she stormed. ‘Honestly, Ron, there are times when I could throttle you.’