Peggy turned off the tap and dried her hands on the scrap of towelling while she forced herself to remain calm. She finally turned to Olive, her expression deliberately cool. ‘What goes on between Ron and Rosie is their concern,’ she said flatly. ‘You need to mind that flapping tongue of yours, Olive, because sooner or later it will get you into trouble.’

Olive smirked. ‘I only pass on what I sees and ’ears, and this latest ’as come from the ’orse’s mouth, so to speak.’

Peggy pushed past her, heading for the door, but Olive’s dirty hand clamped on her shoulder, forcing her to a standstill.

‘I ’eard tell Rosie were seen in a posh car with that there Major Radwell,’ Olive rattled off in Peggy’s ear. ‘Early morning it were when they drove off up to the main road from the station – too early for most decent people to be out and about, dressed to the nines,’ she added spitefully.

Peggy tamped down on the spike of alarm this statement engendered, and forced herself to face the woman. ‘You’re making it up,’ she retorted.

‘Ask yer snooty sister. She were there,’ replied Olive triumphantly.

‘Where?’

Olive rolled her eyes. ‘At the station; where else? Blimey, Peg, I never took you for a thicko.’ With that she slammed out of the washroom, leaving the door to clatter back and forth behind her.

Peggy stood there for a long moment before she could gather her senses and return to her machine. But Olive’s words resounded in her head for the rest of the day.

Ron had returned to the Anchor, suddenly weary from the long walk and the distressing sight of Danuta, who was still heavily sedated and not making much sense. His low spirits were compounded by the lack of any messages or letters from Rosie, and the information he’d gleaned from Nurse Hopkins. It appeared that Major Radwell had been discharged from the Memorial the day Rosie had left Cliffehaven, and hospital gossip had it that he’d left in a chauffeur-driven car, with a large picnic hamper stowed beside the driver.

Ron’s heart was heavy as he switched on the old wireless he’d brought downstairs so everyone could keep up with the invasion news. He reasoned that he could be putting two and two together and making five, but the coincidence was just too great – and he didn’t believe in coincidences. Rosie had taken Monty with her, and what better transport was there than a chauffeur-driven car – what better company than a man who had enough influence to get travel permits? The thought made him feel quite ill, but he was determined not to show it.