‘The Russians wouldn’t harm them,’ soothed Kitty. ‘They’re on our side, remember, so they won’t hold a grudge against our POWs.’

‘But they could have freed them and left them to wander and get lost,’ persisted Charlotte.

Kitty put down her knitting and patted Charlotte’s arm. ‘You’re letting your imagination run away with you, love. I’m sure that if the Russians did get to them first, they would have made arrangements for them to make contact with our troops. They’re probably on their way home and we haven’t heard anything because there are so many prisoners, it takes time to sort them all out.’

Charlotte nodded, but Kitty had known her since their schooldays, and could tell she remained unconvinced. She gave a sigh, dumped her knitting and went to fill the kettle. She was worried about Freddy too, for there had been very little news of him once he and Randy had been moved to Stalag IV. At least she knew Roger was alive, and that he was still with Martin, for there had been a few cards from them before Christmas. It was the lack of communication and information from RAF HQ that was getting to them both, and even with their strong ties to the service – they’d both flown planes as ATA girls – it seemed the powers that be were remaining tight-lipped.

She rubbed the stump of her leg which always played up when the weather was damp, and wondered if winter would ever end. Apart from a very few sunny, pleasant days, it had been overcast with squally showers and gusty winds – not at all like May. The fruit trees they’d planted in the back garden should be in bud by now, and the summer vegetables shooting up, but the ground was sodden and everything was struggling. There was even talk of rationing bread and potatoes because of the terrible wheat harvest at the end of last year, and the potato crops rotting in the ground.

Kitty gave a deep sigh and adjusted the strap on her prosthetic leg in the hope it would ease the ache in her stump. Life was difficult enough without the added strictures of rationing those staples.

‘I’ll make the tea,’ said Charlotte, taking charge of the whistling kettle. ‘You’ve clearly done more than enough today. Why don’t you sit down, get that leg off and relax?’

‘I think I will,’ Kitty replied. ‘The walk home from town was too much after standing in the queue at the grocer’s for so long.’

‘You should have let me do the queuing,’ said Charlotte, filling the teapot and giving the leaves a vigorous stir. ‘You’re too stubborn for your own good at times.’