Charlotte knelt down and finished fixing the last buckle. ‘Don’t you think I pray that’s the case?’ she asked, the tears streaming down her face. ‘But the RAF wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble if they’d thought his situation wasn’t serious enough to warrant it. Oh, Kitty, he must be in a very bad state indeed. I can only pray we’ll get to him in time.’

She collapsed against Kitty, and they held one another tightly for a moment, trying to absorb the awful possibility that they might lose the man they loved so much, and not have the chance to say goodbye to him.

‘We must hurry and get the children ready for the journey,’ said Charlotte, pulling away and once again becoming a whirlwind of activity. ‘We’ll need to pack overnight things and changes of clothing for the children as well as ourselves – and then there’s nappies and bottles, tins of baby food and blankets. It’ll be cold in that plane, so we’ll need our warmest coats.’

Kitty determinedly pulled herself together and hurried off to pack an overnight bag for herself and Faith – although she had no idea of how long they would be away. She offered to help Charlotte, but soon realised her best friend needed to keep busy, or she’d fall apart. Leaving Faith to sleep for as long as possible, she went back into the kitchen and telephoned Peggy to let her know what was happening.

Peggy was distraught for all of them, and made Kitty promise she’d stay in touch, but the call was cut short by a discreet knock at the front door. The RAF driver had arrived. It was time to leave.

Both Kitty and Charlotte had flown Oxfords during the war, and it was whilst piloting an Oxford that Kitty had been forced into a crash landing which had resulted in her losing most of one leg. The Ox Box, as it was lovingly known, had been used as an air taxi during hostilities, ferrying personnel back and forth between different airfields and factories, and carrying vital engine parts to where they were needed.

Kitty and Charlotte climbed in to find that three small canvas cots had been firmly strapped into the seats, and although the babies cried a bit when the plane took off, they were soon asleep again, lulled by the steady throb of the engine. ‘They’re natural fliers,’ said Charlotte tearfully, ‘just like their fathers.’

Kitty nodded and concentrated on the flight path their pilot was taking. It was pitch-black outside, the rain streaking the windows, with no sign of a moon to guide them. Freddy had to be all right.