Ron grimaced, tapped the spent tobacco from his pipe and glanced at his watch. ‘There’s no excitement in war, wee boy,’ he rumbled. ‘Just death and destruction and the awful waste of young lives. You were better off in Somerset.’

With that he made a sharp turnabout, whistled to the dogs and began the steep descent back towards Beach View. ‘Frank won’t be leaving until the tide’s full, so we’ll go down to see him for a cup of his good tea and whisky.’ He eyed Charlie from beneath his thick brows. ‘Just don’t tell your mother.’

Charlie had tasted the whisky he’d found hidden in the linen cupboard back at Owlet Farm and hadn’t liked it at all. But the idea of sharing such a thing in secret with Ron and Frank and being thought old enough to do so was something he couldn’t resist. He’d just have to get used to the taste.

Peggy had been surprised to see Martin come down with Anne for tea, for he’d never eaten with them all since coming back to Beach View. She realised he must have been upstairs all the time, which was very odd behaviour. But then, she’d become used to him floating in and out unobserved, and it seemed Anne was unfazed by it all.

She’d watched them surreptitiously throughout the meal and noted with enormous relief that they seemed to have found some sort of tentative harmony, although she doubted everything was as rosy as they were making out. Anne was certainly looking a bit brighter, and Martin had really put an effort into making conversation, and helping her with the children who were rather fractious after their long, tiring day.

Daisy was just as temperamental, messing about with her food and demanding to be allowed to sleep upstairs with Rose. In the end, Peggy bundled her away from the table to wash and change her for bed, and by the time she’d brought her back downstairs, Daisy was fast asleep on her shoulder. She tucked her in, smoothed the dark curls from her forehead and kissed her softly before switching on the night light and leaving the door ajar. Life was certainly going to be hectic with such young children in the house.

Peggy returned to the kitchen to discover it was deserted, the table cleared, the dishes washed, and everything tidied away. She was on the point of going back up to see if Cordelia was all right and that Anne didn’t need help with her two little ones, when Anne appeared in the doorway looking rather frazzled.

‘Whatever’s the matter, love?’ Peggy asked, reaching for the kettle.