The two cars formed a convoy and took the long route home, down the High Street and along the seafront, so Anne and Charlie could get their bearings and see the changes in the town. It soon became apparent to them both that Cliffehaven hadn’t escaped from the war, for there were signs everywhere of the damage – some of it dangerously close to Beach View.

They finally drew to a halt outside the front of Beach View, and Anne noted sadly that there was no sign of Martin waiting for them on the steps. He clearly had no intention of welcoming them home. Whilst the men saw to the luggage, Anne climbed out of the car with the girls and looked up at the house that had been her home for most of her life. She noted the scars left in the brickwork by shrapnel and bullets; the missing lanterns that had once graced the plinths at the bottom of the steps; and the weed-filled rubble at the end of the cul-de-sac which had been someone’s home.

She’d seen the bomb site two streets away and shuddered to think how close her mother and little sister Daisy had come to being obliterated by that V-2, and now she realised with shame how little thought she’d really given to the terrors her mother must have gone through these past few years. But then Peggy’s letters had lightly skimmed over the reality of her war, and were filled instead with local gossip and the adventures of her evacuees.

Feeling sick at heart over Martin’s lack of care, Anne followed her mother into the hall and set Emily down so she could run about with Daisy and Rose who seemed to have become best friends. Noticing the tired woodwork and scuffed wallpaper, she realised very little had been done to the house since she’d left, but the innovation of the stairlift was quite marvellous.

‘I’m taking the girls for a ride,’ chirped Cordelia, her little face flushed with pleasure. She plonked down into the chair and strapped herself in. ‘Pass me Emily first,’ she ordered Anne.

Anne hesitated, but a nod from Peggy told her it would be quite safe, so she placed Emily on Cordelia’s lap.

‘Thank you, dear,’ she said briskly, clasping the child to her as she lowered the lever and set the chair going slowly up the stairs.

Emily clapped her little hands, squealed in delight and begged for more as they descended back to the hall.

Cordelia handed the protesting child back to Anne and did the whole thing again with Rose – and then with Daisy. ‘That’s enough,’ she declared. ‘I need a cup of tea – or a nice glass of sherry if you’ve got any, Anne,’ she added hopefully.

‘Sorry, Grandma Cordy. I didn’t pack any.’