She passed the canteen, which was alive with chatter and the ever-present wireless, and then glanced towards the armaments factory where Ivy worked, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. But it seemed everyone was busy, so she carried on past the tool factory, the parachute manufacturer and the large engineering sheds where bits of planes were being made. There was a wonderful sense of industry, with the sounds of thudding, whining tools echoing from those vast sheds, and Peggy felt a certain pride that she too was now an intrinsic part of the workforce striving to do their best to defeat Hitler. Her sewing of uniforms for Solly Goldman might not be as important as making bullets and bombs, but it paid well and gave her the satisfaction of knowing she was doing her bit. Since she’d given up on volunteering for the Women’s Voluntary Service because her sister Doris – queen bee at the WVS – had been such a pain in the neck, she was glad to sacrifice two hours every Saturday to do something charitable.

Peggy’s defection from the WVS and her new job at the factory had caused yet another breach in her relationship with Doris – who was now refusing to talk to her unless she wanted something, and although this saddened Peggy, she was determined to do things her way and not be cowed because her snooty sister didn’t approve of her working alongside her London evacuees in what she considered to be a common factory.

Approaching the large British Red Cross warehouse, Peggy saw Kitty and Charlotte waiting outside, and smiled as they waved to her. They looked lovely, with one so dark, the other fair, each dressed in dungarees and layers of thick sweaters that didn’t quite disguise the fact they were both pregnant. Kitty had been Peggy’s evacuee back in 1942, following a terrible accident in the plane she was delivering for the ATA which had left her with a partially amputated leg, and a doubtful future. But Kitty was made of stern stuff, and she’d soon learnt to manage the prosthesis, returned to flying and ended up marrying Roger Makepeace, who was Martin’s wingman and best friend.

Dark-haired and usually girlishly slender, Charlotte had been close to Kitty since their boarding-school days, and she too had become an ‘Attagirl’, before marrying Kitty’s rogue of a brother, Freddy, and falling pregnant with twins. Both men were now incarcerated in Stalag III along with Martin, and the girls were putting a brave face on things, determined to do their bit until they could all be reunited.

Peggy hugged them both warmly and kissed their radiant cheeks. ‘You both look marvellously well,’ she said affectionately.

Kitty laughed and tucked her short fair hair behind her ears. ‘I’m just glad I’m not having twins,’ she said, patting her bump. ‘This one’s heavy enough on its own.’