Ron was full of the joys of spring as he parked Rosie’s car outside the Anchor and leapt out to fetch the cases from the boot. Their honeymoon had been a great success, and being away from Cliffehaven had rejuvenated them both, making them realise how narrow their lives had become, and vowing to take more time off to see other places. They’d walked the long promenade, eaten fish and chips out of newspaper, poked about in the numerous antique shops in the Lanes, and danced every night in the hotel’s grand ballroom, so Ron’s back was complaining a bit, but being with Rosie was worth it.

He carried the cases up the stairs and dumped them in the sitting room before hurrying back down to check on his ferrets as Rosie headed for the kitchen to make a welcome cup of tea – it had been a long drive from Brighton, and all the tearooms they’d passed had been closed.

Having discovered that his ferrets were in fine fettle, he returned to the sitting room and shed his jacket. He picked up the bankbook Brenda had left on the dresser alongside a sheaf of notes which told him there had been no trouble in the pub, Monty had behaved himself, Bert had been in each day to see to the ferrets, and Ruby had proved to be a godsend behind the bar as Flo had done a moonlight and no one knew where she’d gone.

Rosie came in with the tea tray and looked over his shoulder at the neatly written bank deposits with a chuckle. ‘Brenda and Ruby seem to have managed very well without us. Perhaps we should go away more often now we have two such reliable caretakers.’

Ron had picked up the next sheet of notepaper and was deeply immersed in what Peggy had written. When he came to the end, he silently handed it to Rosie, and then reached for the second note Peggy had left, only yesterday according to the date on the top. The bitter sadness struck him hard and he sank into the nearby armchair trying to absorb how much things had changed since they’d been away.

Rosie finished reading the note, perched on the arm of the chair, and put her hand softly on the back of his neck. ‘I can’t believe Freddy’s gone,’ she said tremulously. ‘Poor Charlotte must be going through absolute hell. How on earth will she cope with two babies all on her own?’

‘She’ll have Kitty to help, but I suspect she’s just as devastated,’ Ron replied. ‘You know how much she adored her brother. But at least it seems that Roger and Martin have made it through – and that’s something to be grateful for.’ He glanced down at Peggy’s more recent note still clutched in his hand. ‘There’s more bad news, I’m afraid, darling. It concerns young Ivy.’