But letters weren’t the same as actually being together during the good and the bad times, and he was worried that his daughter had grown away from him during his long absence – after all, he’d been called up in 1940, and a great deal had happened to both of them since. He could only trust that the strong relationship they’d forged during her childhood was still there, and that they wouldn’t be like strangers.

Jack threw his half-smoked cigarette out of the window, adjusted the fedora and swung his kitbag over his shoulder. The train was approaching the short spur which would take him into the heart of Cliffehaven.

With the suitcase gripped in his hand, he leaned out of the window, eager to catch sight of his daughter. And there she was, jumping up and down, waving her arms, her dark curls bobbing in the light breeze, her little face alight with excitement.

He fumbled with the door as the train drew to a shuddering halt emitting a great sigh of steam and smoke, and Jack almost fell to the platform in his eagerness to get to her. Barely able to see her in the swirl of fog coming from the engine, he dropped his luggage and was almost knocked off his feet as she threw herself into his arms.

‘I’m home, Rita!’ he yelled above the noise of the other men disembarking as he swung her round. ‘And this time I’m staying!’

‘Oh, Dad, Dad. It’s so lovely to see you,’ she yelled back, the tears streaming down her face as she clung to his neck, ‘and to know you’re safe at last.’

The fog cleared and Jack set her back on her feet so he could drink in the sight of her. ‘You’re looking more like your mother,’ he managed through a tight throat. ‘So beautiful and all grown up too.’ He chuckled and gently removed some soot smuts from her face before kissing her damp cheek and hugging her fiercely to him.

‘It’s been so long, Dad. I can hardly believe you’re really here, and for good this time.’ She wiped her face with a handkerchief. ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,’ she said. ‘You must think I’m daft.’

‘Not at all, darling,’ he murmured, touching her dark curls which reminded him so much of her mother’s. ‘You’re lucky I’m not bawling like a baby too.’

Rita giggled and clutched his arm. ‘Come on, Stan’s dying to welcome you home, and then I thought we’d catch up over a cup of tea before we went back to Beach View.’

Jack grinned at Stan who’d been the stationmaster at Cliffehaven for many years and was one of the town’s beloved characters. ‘Good to see you, my friend,’ he said, heartily shaking his hand. ‘Goodness, you’re looking well,’ he added, noting the man’s considerable loss of weight.