Having collected Daisy from the crèche, she decided to walk along the promenade, in the hope that some brisk exercise in the salty air might bring calm to her troubled heart and restore the strength of purpose she so badly needed to keep her going.

Cliffehaven seafront had always been the main attraction of the town. It was where the holidaymakers had come to frolic in the water, sit in deckchairs, and to enjoy the evening variety shows and dances on the pier and the music at the bandstand on Sunday afternoons. The sight of it now was really depressing, for although the barbed wire, gun emplacements and tank traps had been removed, and the beach cleared of mines, the bandstand was a pile of rubble and the poor old pier still had the rusting remains of a German plane stuck into its fire-blackened ribs.

Peggy let Daisy run free to chase seagulls and throw pebbles into the water as she walked along with the pushchair. According to Sarah, who worked in the council offices, there were already plans to rebuild the bandstand and repair the Victorian shelters that were strung along the promenade, and to bring back the tram which used to run along the seafront and up the High Street to the station. But it would cost a great deal of money to resurrect the pier, which the council simply didn’t have, so it would probably be left as it was – just without the German plane.

Peggy took a deep lungful of the fresh air that was so reviving after the dusty atmosphere of the factory and paused for a moment to gaze the length of the promenade which stretched from the steeply sloping hills to the west, where the remains of the Havelock Road houses and park were an ugly testament to the destruction of war – to the white cliffs in the east, which had stood sentinel over the horseshoe bay since time immemorial.

Peggy could see there was a lot to do before the summer season got into full swing, which she was sure it would, for although the Far East was still engaged in war, people would want to forget what they’d just been through and have a seaside, bucket and spade holiday with their families like they used to. There were enormous bomb sites to be cleared before urgently needed new housing could be built; hotels and guest houses would need to be repaired to accommodate the visitors, and the High Street and station buildings could certainly do with an overhaul.

She shivered as a sudden gust of wind chilled her, for although it was early May, it still got cold once the sun dipped low in the sky. ‘Come on, Daisy,’ she called. ‘It’s time for tea.’

The little girl threw a handful of pebbles into the water and then ran towards her, her dark curls flying, her cheeks rosy from the cold. ‘Have ice-cream now, Mum?’