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to his feet. ‘I must go,’ he said regretfully, fastening the buttons on his uniform jacket.
    He swept a tearful Cordelia into his arms and gave her a hearty kiss, tickling her cheeks with his moustache to bring back her smile.
    Then he hugged Peggy, who was battling with her own tears. ‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ he murmured before turning away to pat Harvey and shake Ron’s hand. ‘Look after them all for me, won’t you, Ron?’
    ‘To be sure, don’t I always?’ Ron grasped his hand firmly as his blue eyes became suspiciously bright. ‘You watch what you’re doing up there, boy,’ he rumbled. ‘My great-granddaughters are relying on you to come back in one piece – and so am I.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Honest to God, Martin, you’ve no idea how difficult it is for a poor solitary man to survive in this house full of bossy women.’
    Martin grinned and softly punched his shoulder. ‘You love it really, you old fraud,’ he teased. Then he put on his cap, shot everyone a smile and was running down the steps and walking towards the back gate.
    Peggy and Ron followed and stood in the doorway, Harvey between them as Martin turned and waved. And then he was gone.
    ‘I’m sick of saying goodbye to everyone I love,’ said Peggy tearfully. ‘When is this awful war going to end, Ron?’
    He put a strong arm round her shoulders and drew her close. ‘When we’ve beaten the ruddy Germans,’ he muttered. ‘And that won’t be long now, to be sure, for I’m betting they don’t have chocolate biscuits.’ He smiled down at her. ‘I seem to remember there are still a couple in the tin, so ’twould be a terrible waste to leave them there to go stale.’
    Peggy dug him affectionately in the ribs. ‘Those are Cordelia’s and you’ve already had six.’
    He looked down at her in feigned disbelief. ‘Ach, to be sure, Peggy girl, you’ll be exaggerating.’
    She smiled through her tears. ‘Not at all, you old rogue. I counted every single one, including the half you shared with Harvey.’

Chapter Four
    MARY HAD RECEIVED numerous letters from Barbara and Jack Boniface and her best friend Pat over the past weeks, and she’d read them all so many times that she knew them almost by heart.
    Barbara had written long, rambling letters full of love and news and gentle gossip of the goings-on in the Sussex village of Harebridge Green. The young, rather simple-minded Gladys, who’d lost her mother on the same night as the rectory had taken a direct hit, was still happily living with her fearsome aunt, who was encouraging her to help with the WVS. All was well at Black Briar Farm, but two of the land girls had left, so they were a bit short-handed while they waited for their replacements. Her husband, Joseph, was still working long hours and doing his fire-watch and warden duties, but he was well and keeping very fit.
    There hadn’t been any raids or tip-and-runs since Mary had left the village, but the school had mysteriously burned down one night and it was suspected a couple of the local boys had made a camp in there and set it alight by accident. Its loss was felt by everyone, for the hall had become a popular meeting place for dances, parties and jumble sales.
    Pat’s letters were quite short, but she was still working at the rope factory and enjoying a hectic social life, and was now courting a young French Canadian soldier. She bemoaned the fact that the clothing ration was stricter than ever, and that the dowdy grey, black or navy utility clothing in the shops did absolutely nothing to flatter even the prettiest and most shapely girl.
    Jack’s letters had become more hastily written and were much shorter as he’d been immersed in his qualification course for the commandos, which he was finding far tougher than he’d expected but was enjoying immensely. He was still hoping to get some leave, but if he made the grade and got into this elite regiment he wasn’t at all sure if it would be