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direction of the pigsty. ‘Your aunt Maeve has just telephoned, Nancy. I told her you’d call her back.’ Nancy ran into the hotel ahead of Bess.

‘I’ll check Donnie has fresh water, I’ll be in in a minute,’ Frank called after them.

In the office, Bess offered Nancy her chair and when she was seated dialled the number that Maeve had given her. When the telephone was answered, Bess passed the receiver to Nancy and left. She hadn’t been in reception more than two minutes when Nancy peeped round the door and beamed a smile at her. Bess pretended to hurry back to the office to hear what Nancy’s aunt had to say. ‘Well?’

‘Aunt Maeve will be back tomorrow teatime,’ Nancy said, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

‘Then you had better fill in the last square, hadn’t you?’ Nancy collected her coloured crayons from the seat beneath the window and returned to Bess’s chair. ‘What colour are you going to use for today?’ Bess asked, taking the calendar down and placing it in front of the child.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Nancy shouted, ‘Red!’ And, concentrating, she began to fill in the square. When Frank came in, Nancy looked up and waved her crayon at him. ‘Aunt Maeve is coming home tomorrow.’

‘Well, that is good news,’ Frank said, looking from Nancy to Bess.

‘Done it!’ Nancy shouted.

Moving to stand next to his wife, Frank looked down at the calendar. ‘That’s very good. You haven’t gone over the line once. We’ve got another budding artist in the family, Bess. I think we should buy Nancy pencils and drawing paper like we bought Aimee, don’t you?’

Bess followed his gaze. The other squares had been lightly coloured in blue and green, yellow, orange and purple. The last square was a solid block of red, reminding Bess that Nancy’s aunt Maeve was the most important person in her life - and the nearest thing she had to a mother. It also reminded her that Nancy would be going home to Kirby Marlow the following day. ‘Excuse me,’ Bess said. And standing up she edged out from behind the desk and left the room.

That night, as Bess had done every night when she put Nancy to bed, she read her a story. Halfway through she noticed the child had fallen asleep. Not wanting the time she had left with Nancy to end, Bess lowered her voice and read on. When she finished the chapter, Bess closed the book and put it on the rug at the side of the bed. Watching the little girl sleep, Bess thought of Aimee and the times she had read to her, either at Claire and Mitch’s house in Oxford, or when Aimee had stayed with her Grandparents at Foxden. Bess smiled to herself. Aimee would fight to stay awake, only giving in to sleep when her eyes grew so heavy she could no longer keep them open.

Bess stood up and started to pack Nancy’s suitcase. Except for the nightdress she was wearing, and a clean set of clothes for the next day, every item of Nancy’s clothing had been washed and ironed. Folding her blue dress with the sailor collar brought back memories of Aimee’s birthday party and how she and Nancy had become friends. Bess made a mental note to ask Maeve to bring Nancy over when Aimee next visited. Huh! she sighed. That will be when they get back from Canada. Probably not until next year.

Bess took the letter she’d received from Claire, which her sister had written the day they landed in Canada, from the mantle shelf. Mitch would be in hospital now, Bess thought. And taking the letter out of its envelope she wondered how he was responding to treatment.

She flicked open the letter and began to read. “It was all such a rush in the end,” Claire wrote. “The Royal Canadian Air Force arranged everything. They flew us from France to Canada, with only a twenty-four-hour stopover in England to pick up our clothes and personal belongings. We expect to be in Canada for three months.”

Three months felt like a long time. Bess had hoped with her brother Tom, his wife Annabel, and their daughter Charlotte coming to Foxden for Christmas this year, the whole family would be together for once. Three months, she sighed, would mean Claire, Mitch and Aimee would be in Canada for Christmas.

Bess remembered Mitch saying the ‘Fall’ in Canada was similar to the autumns in England, but the winters were much harsher with lots of snow and the temperature below zero for much of the time. Bess hoped Claire had taken plenty of winter clothes for her and Aimee.

She looked back at the letter. “From the apartment,” Claire went on to say, “where Aimee and I are living it’s a short bus ride to Mitch’s father and step-mother’s house. And the military hospital, which specialises in men who have suffered mental breakdowns after what they have seen or been through in the war, is a couple of stops further on in the city centre.

“We took the bus to his father’s house this morning. Aimee stayed with Mitch’s step-mother and his father drove Mitch and I to the hospital in his car. The doctor said he was eager to start Mitch’s treatment, which would begin as soon as Mitch had been assessed. He didn’t say when that would be, so we’ll have to wait and see.”

Bess was apprehensive. She wanted to know more, but until her sister wrote again there was nothing she could do except hope and pray, and wait.

Bess put Claire’s letter back in the envelope and slipped it into her pocket. She hated the idea of her sister being so far away, but she knew if Claire and Mitch were ever going be happy again, Mitch needed to have specialist treatment. Claire was strong. All the Dudley girls were, but Bess had always

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