Peggy chuckled to herself, for the daunting Stanley and Mick had turned up on her doorstep late one night asking for their sister, and although the initial sight of them had alarmed her, she’d nevertheless invited them in and discovered they were actually very nice men who were worried about Ivy and the children in Salisbury. But she could well imagine how they must have frightened the rather smug-sounding, well-heeled Johnsons out of their wits.

She stubbed out her cigarette and went back into the house. Dumping the basket in the scullery sink, she listened at Cissy’s door, hoping she might be awake. But hearing nothing, she went up the concrete steps to find her daughter drinking tea and eating toast. Surprised to see her dressed and made up at this time of the morning, she asked her if she was coming to the station to see the newly-weds off.

Cissy shook her head. ‘I’ll leave that to you,’ she said. She dropped the thick crust of toast on her plate and brushed crumbs from her lap. ‘Mum,’ she began hesitantly. ‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you.’

Peggy sat down. ‘I thought there might be,’ she said calmly. ‘Is it about Randy?’

‘Yes.’ Cissy slid the airmail letter across the table. ‘This came on Wednesday.’

Peggy opened the letter and swiftly read through it. ‘Oh, Cissy. You didn’t have to keep this to yourself all this time,’ she gasped. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I needed to deal with it on my own,’ Cissy replied. ‘To make up my mind how I really felt about it and decide what I’m going to do next.’ She gave a thin smile. ‘Besides, it was hardly the appropriate topic of conversation on Ruby’s wedding day, was it?’

‘You could still have told me over the past few days,’ Peggy chided softly.

Cissy put her hand over Peggy’s. ‘I know, Mum, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. But I’m not a child any more, and can’t come crying to you every time something upsets me.’ She sat straighter in the kitchen chair, her expression hardening as she lit a cigarette. ‘Goodness knows, I experienced enough real tragedy during the war to be able to deal with something as minor as my hurt pride and that bastard with his stinking self-righteous, bloody letter.’

‘Language, Cissy.’

‘Well, I’m angry with him. He’s made me look and feel a fool.’

Peggy could understand that after all Cissy’s boasting about going to America and living the high life. ‘It’s best you put him and his letter out of your mind, then,’ she said reasonably, folding her hands on the kitchen table. ‘So, have you decided what you’re going to do now?’