Cissy seemed to read her thoughts and embraced her. ‘It won’t be long before the Japs are forced to surrender, Mum,’ she consoled beneath the hubbub of the surrounding celebrations. ‘Dad will soon be on his way back, you’ll see – and then we can have another big party.’

‘Let’s go into town,’ shouted Ivy, downing her glass of wine in one. ‘Come on, Andy,’ she urged, pulling the young fireman towards the door. ‘I wanna dance and sing before them clouds roll in again and it starts to rain.’

The young ones didn’t need asking twice and shot off with promises to return, although it was not made clear as to when that might be. April left little Paula to her Uncle Stan’s tender care and quickly followed them whilst Rita argued with Peter over whether it was wise for him to try and walk all that way with crutches.

‘No worries, Rita. I’ll be right,’ he drawled, brushing her argument aside. ‘There’s no flaming way I’m missing out on what’s going to be the biggest party ever.’ He grasped the crutches and determinedly led the way through the kitchen, past the prams and slowly down the concrete steps to the basement back door with Rita fretfully shadowing him in case he had one of his dizzy spells and stumbled.

Peggy watched from the top of the cellar stairs, equally worried that the boy was trying to do too much, but she knew she’d be foolish to say anything for he’d take no notice in his utter determination to have his way – and bless him, he’d certainly earned the right to celebrate after spending so many years flying to defend her country.

She was about to warn Rita to close the back door quietly for a change when the girl banged it shut and woke the babies. Peggy gave a cluck of mild annoyance before breaking into a soft smile. Neither Rita nor Ivy had learnt the art of shutting doors quietly, and they were the noisiest, untidiest imps imaginable. But she couldn’t help loving them.