Ron had lit the fire in the hearth and pulled the curtains on the dreary night. Rosie’s sitting room was warm and cosy, the freshly washed chintz covers on the couches and chairs glowing with faded colour, the cushions plump and inviting. There was a glorious bunch of Stan’s roses in a vase on the mantelpiece, and he’d made a plate of sandwiches for her in case she was hungry after the long journey. There was a fresh bottle of gin on the sideboard, all the glasses had been washed and polished, and even Harvey had had a bath and brush so his brindled coat gleamed in the firelight as he stretched out on the hearthrug.

Ron looked at his watch. The Anchor had been closed for almost an hour and all was quiet, for most people were in bed at this late hour, but Rosie would be here soon, he was sure of it. He eased a finger round the starched collar of his shirt and adjusted his tie. Peggy had sponged down his best suit, Fran had cut his hair and trimmed his eyebrows, and he’d polished his shoes to a shine this morning, so he knew he looked respectable – even though this get-up was horribly uncomfortable.

He relaxed back into the couch, mulling over the events of the past two days. The fire in the houses had eventually been extinguished, and a subsequent search through the dank, stinking, blackened shells had revealed that the house next to Doris had thankfully been empty, the occupants working at the Red Cross warehouse.

The tragic remains of the women attending Doris’s lunch had been found. The majority of the bodies had been located in the drawing room as expected, but there seemed to be evidence that a few of Doris’s guests had been in what turned out to be the charred remains of Doris’s bedroom at the moment the V-1 hit. What they’d been doing there was a mystery, but to shield Doris from any further upset it was decided not to say anything to her – although it would all come out at the inquest.

There had been nothing to salvage from what had been a beautiful and expensively furnished house. Doris had cried over her loss, but been thankful that at least everything had been insured and she’d been wearing her diamond ring that day, her mink coat lying on the back seat of the car, which was now parked outside Beach View.