‘I wish he would,’ she replied, thinking of those long, lonely nights when they lay beside each other like strangers in dreadful silence. ‘Then I might be able to help him through this. But he clams up at the slightest mention of his time in that POW camp.’

She bit her lip. ‘All I do know is that the death of so many of his friends has hit him very hard. Like Freddy Pargeter – he was such a livewire. He could turn a girl’s head with just a smile, and he had that devil-may-care sort of panache. His wife had twins whilst he was in captivity, but he only lived just long enough to see them fleetingly. He’ll be dearly missed by everyone,’ she said sadly. ‘Not least of all by Roger, his brother-in-law and Martin’s wingman. Roger’s always been a sturdy, dependable sort of man, and I know Martin relied on his companionship throughout their time in the camp, and they became very close.’

‘Have they been in touch since being demobbed?’ George asked.

‘Martin writes to him nearly every day, and Roger replies, but I have no idea of what state of mind Roger’s in, or how he’s coping, for Martin never lets me see his letters. Mum doesn’t tell me much of what’s going on with Kitty and Roger, and I don’t ask, because then she’d know that all is not well with me and Martin.’

‘But why not confide in your mother, Anne? She sounds eminently sensible and caring, and I’m sure she’d be a huge help in easing that heavy burden you’re carrying.’

There had been many a time that Anne had wanted to tell her mother what was happening, but if she did she’d be admitting defeat by passing the burden on to someone who really couldn’t do anything about it. ‘She has enough on her plate already, without me adding to it,’ she said flatly. She gave a sigh. ‘I’ll muddle through somehow and keep faith that Martin will eventually come out of this and be his old, lovely self again.’

George sat in thought as the bus wheezed its way up a hill. ‘I know that when I was shot down and burned, I found it impossible to talk to anyone, let alone my poor mother who was beside herself with worry – and of course the girl I was engaged to took one look at me and shot off before I could even blink my good eye.’