KATIE KING lives in Kent, and has worked in publishing. She has a keen interest in twentieth-century history and this novel was inspired by a period spent living in south-east London. She is the author of The Evacuee Christmas, the first in the Evacuee series.

Copyright

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

Copyright © Katie King 2018

Katie King asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © July 2018 ISBN: 9780008257583

Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

The day that Milburn came to Tall Trees rectory seemed to take forever to arrive.

And no sooner had Milburn been installed in the freshly whitewashed stable and given a metal pail of cool water to drink from, than there was an enviable trumpet of flatulence from underneath an extravagantly lifted tail, followed by an impressively large mound of droppings deposited in the corner of the stall, combining to make the children crowded over the stable door giggle in glee.

Milburn’s little chestnut ears flicked nervously forwards and backwards at the unfamiliar noise they were making.

The Rev. Roger Braithwaite, Tommy’s father, announced in a proud voice, ‘Just what the vegetables need’, to which his wife Mabel replied in a tone much less proud, ‘Don’t be such a daft ’apporth, Roger – it’s got t’ rot down first.’

Nobody said anything for a moment or two, and then Tommy asked Roger in a deceptively innocent voice, ‘Phew, phewee! Pa, do ponies fart a lot? And do they do much sh—?’

‘Tommy!’ his mother quickly cut in.

Milburn turned to peer at Tommy with such a comical look of shock that the children could only laugh with more abandon than they had already.

The fun and games had begun a few days before.

‘We’re going to have a pony and trap,’ Roger had announced grandly, bustling back to the crumb-strewn breakfast table after answering the telephone. ‘What do you all think of that?’

Everyone who lived at Tall Trees looked at the rector in bemusement as the thought of him driving something as old-fashioned as a trap was comical. As wonderful a clergyman as he was, they all knew that the general practicalities of life, and Roger, were not easy bedfellows.

Roger pretended not to notice the joshing expressions of those sitting around the kitchen table, reminding everyone instead that although he was able to keep a car, petrol rationing meant it wasn’t for everyday use. And probably no one needed reminding (they didn’t!) that he kept losing the bit of the engine he’d regularly remove – was it the distributor cap? Roger couldn’t remember – when he left the vehicle immobilised at night in accordance with the authorities’ instructions that all vehicle owners take something out of the engine when parked up, in order to make it as difficult as possible for Jerry to use if he were to invade. It was a good thing to do, obviously, but it was trying for everyone to keep tabs on where Roger had put the ‘thingymebob’.

Every single one of them had, at various times, helped Roger find something that he had put down somewhere and promptly forgotten about, usually because he placed his woolly, or his newspaper, or a tea towel on top, or because it had got buried by the muddle of papers on his overflowing desk in the study. More than once Peggy had found herself sitting down at the kitchen table only to jump up again immediately when she’d eased herself down on top of Roger’s favourite Swan fountain pen, the one he used to write his sermons. Only the week before she’d sat on his horn-rimmed reading spectacles that had been missing for over a day. Of course Mabel was always on at Roger to be more tidy, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was just as bad at failing to put things in their proper place. In fact, it was only Peggy’s eye for detail and workman-like attitude for sorting things out, and using the scullery as a hiding place for the mountains of washing, that prevented the large, stone-flagged kitchen descending into chaos.

‘So, from now on, for ordinary parish business it’s going to be pony- (as opposed to horse-)power, with the car being reserved for real emergencies. What do you all think of that?’ Roger asked the table, encouragingly.

‘Madness.’ Mabel’s reply was eloquent in its brevity. She knew her husband well, so she didn’t think much more needed to be said.

‘I don’t like ’orses much,’ said Tommy, not that he really knew anything about them but this didn’t daunt him, ‘anyways, not as much as machine-guns like the…’, the words dying on his lips under Mabel’s stern look. She was trying to encourage her eleven-year-old son to think a bit less about weapons than he did, but it was an uphill battle as the Tall Trees boys did love to make competitive lists of guns or bombers or tanks, and they would spend hours carefully tracing photographs they saw in the newspaper and colouring them in.

Gracie added her bit with, ‘I’ve never taken to them – ’orses – either. Their big yellow teeth put me right off.’

‘Sounds like their mummies haven’t made them brush their teeth,’ joked Connie as she, quickly followed by her twin brother Jessie, bared her teeth, pulling her lips back with her fingers as far as she could, which of course the other children had to copy immediately too, accompanied by lots of sniggering.

Roger, Mabel, Peggy and Gracie dramatically rolled their eyes up to the ceiling, which made the youngsters do it all the more.

Despairing of the table manners of her niece and nephew but not wanting to spoil the moment, Peggy was surprised too about the pony arriving. Tall Trees was a very splendid rectory certainly, with massive windows and generously proportioned rooms. Although a sizeable amount of the large garden had been given over to the chickens and the vegetable plots, she supposed there was still quite a lot of lawn and patches of grass a pony could nibble. But this wouldn’t get around the fact that Harrogate was a bustling place and it seemed odd to Peggy for Roger to be contemplating having a pony and trap in a relatively built-up area. Then she reminded herself how spacious, grand and grassy Harrogate had seemed when she and ten-year-old Connie and Jessie had arrived to their new billet on their evacuation from London the previous September, so used were they to Bermondsey’s tightly packed terraced streets and the River Thames flowing silently out to sea only a stone’s throw away from where they lived. ‘How did the offer of the pony and trap come about?’ Peggy asked Roger.

A farmer called Mr Hobbs was fed up with an extra mouth to feed that wasn’t earning its keep in these straightened times, Roger explained, and so following a sermon he’d given one Sunday that managed to speak about the value of Shank’s pony, and Apostle Paul on the road to Damascus (Roger having been inordinately proud of a joke he had been able to construct around these two things), Mr Hobbs had offered Roger the pony and trap on loan to use as an alternative to the car when out and about his parish.

‘I thought at once of our unused stables just across the back yard and so I just heard myself replying “what a wonderful offer” and “of course we’d love to have the pony and its trap”,’ Roger said.

Mabel shook her head as if to say that Roger had very possibly taken leave of his senses. But there was a twinkle in her eye and Peggy didn’t think Mabel was really put out by what Roger had agreed.

‘I suppose my acceptance might have been hastened by having already had to bicycle to old Mr Bennett at dawn – he’s on his last legs, poor chap, and there’ll be bad news soon – and then go straight over to see Mrs Daley as her own brood and their evacuees have all got chickenpox. And all before breakfast, might I say, which was a lot of pedalling on the boneshaker, I can tell you,’ mused Roger, ‘and I thought of a pony and trap, and sitting there thinking up ideas for my sermon, and it seemed a good thing…’

Peggy knew how heavy Roger’s ancient bicycle was, and she saw his point.

Mabel didn’t look so sympathetic. ‘’Onestly, Roger, what are you like? Well, you kiddies shall take care of t’ pony,’ Mabel told the children, ‘an’, you all mark this, I’ll send ’im back the first sign o’ trouble, you see if I don’t.’

‘Deal!’ they yelled in chorus, clearly delighted with the furry new arrival, and the long summer holidays stretching ahead not too far away.

Mabel had taken charge of getting everything ready for the pony, and after school she had set the children to cleaning out one of the shabby old stables and slapping a new coat of whitewash over the ancient brick walls. After, that is, they had dealt with a veritable festoon of cobwebs that needed pulling down. Connie turned out to be the only one without any fear of the host of understandably now tetchy spiders, much to the embarrassment of the boys, Tommy and Jessie, but Aiden too. He was a Harrogate lad in Tommy’s class and was also staying at the rectory where the boys all bunked up together in a huge but always messy bedroom. This meant that Aiden’s parents could rent out his room as there had been such an influx of people to the area since the war had begun.

Next, Mabel made the gang swish the tail end of a bar of red Lifebuoy carbolic soap about in piping-hot water from the kettle on the hob that had been poured into a couple of metal pails until the water looked opaque and medicinal. Then the children happily sloshed it about in the stall to thoroughly disinfect the floor, before using a stiff broom to swoosh the dirtied water outside. Then they neatly piled some bales of straw and hay, which had arrived while they were at school, into the stall next door, all the boys except Jessie trying to show how strong they were for the benefit of the girls.

The two buckets they’d used had been scrubbed and rinsed to within an inch of their lives to remove any smell of the Lifebuoy, after which Connie and Aiden chased each other around with the buckets half-filled with clean water trying to splash each other. Once the children were worn out, the buckets had been allowed to air-dry, as had an old zinc dustbin with a tightly fitting lid that had also been disinfected and would keep vermin out so the pony’s hard feed could be kept clean and dry. Afterwards, even Mabel couldn’t bring to mind anything else that needed doing.

This wasn’t like Mabel at all, and so it wasn’t a surprise to anybody that she put her thinking cap on and looked around for other jobs to do. Eventually, Mabel found, in an old lean-to near the chicken coops, some ancient and rather cobwebby items of grooming kit that looked as if they dated from well before the last war, in fact prior to 1910 was likely – which was the last time the stables had been occupied by horses instead of only mice and spiders – and so these elderly brushes and a currycomb had to be washed and disinfected too, and then left in a patch of bright sunlight to dry.

None of the evacuees had ever done any feeding or grooming of horses or ponies, although Connie and Jessie had sometimes helped the milkman, with his horse-drawn milk cart, to deliver the glass bottles of creamy milk to houses in Jubilee Street if they were up early enough on Saturdays (which wasn’t often as the milkman and his horse with his muffled hooves did plod along the twins’ home street very early in order to be in time for as many breakfasts as possible).

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Roger, ‘but I don’t think we should worry too much about our lack of equine knowledge. I can always speak to the pony’s owner if there’s anything we’re uncertain about, and I’m sure that as long as the pony has its scran and nobody is ever too loud, or mean, or boisterous near him, then everything will be dandy.’

The only girl evacuee, besides Connie, at Tall Trees was Angela, who had been in Connie and Jessie’s class at school back at home in south-east London. Sadly, Angela was in a wheelchair following an unfortunate run-in the previous Halloween with a car driving without headlights in the blackout. All the same, Angela was determined to pull her weight as far as the pony was concerned, and after she heard Roger say that he didn’t know much about ponies, she persuaded Tommy – the strongest of the children, as there were a lot of kerbs and inclines to navigate – to push her in her wheelchair over to the library so that she could bone up on horse care.

Angela was very thorough in her research, despite Tommy’s recurring refrain of ‘I’m bored’ whispered to her in ever-shortening intervals between his stints of messing about in the road outside the library, despite the stern ‘shush’ hissed in his direction by the librarian. Angela made careful and copious notes on feeding and how to rub down and what the various parts of a pony’s feet were called, feeling this was the least she could do as she had had to watch from her chair as the others worked to clean out the stable, knowing that Tommy’s suggestion that she be gaffer was just to make her feel less of a sore thumb.

Shyly, Angela showed Peggy her jotter once they were home that evening. Peggy had been her schoolteacher a while back, and she was impressed by the diligent way that Angela had written her notes. ‘Goodness me, that looks useful,’ Peggy said, and Angela allowed herself to smile when she added, ‘That pony is going to have a lot to thank you for, and you are going to be kept busy checking that the others are doing everything properly. Well done, Angela, really well done.’

The night they had arrived in Harrogate, nearly nine months earlier, Jessie had named his new grey teddy Neville in honour of Prime Minister Chamberlain. Jessie’s Neville was the brother bear to Connie’s black and white panda Petunia, the knitted bears being a surprise, hidden by their mother in their luggage as a treat for them to find when they came to unpack their belongings in their new billets.

Jessie wondered if they would be allowed to give the pony a new name when he arrived. ‘If so, we could call him Winston maybe?’ he asked, seeing as Winston Churchill had recently become Prime Minister.

Connie used her most strident voice to butt in quickly, ‘Gi’ over, Jessie, Winston’s a terrible name, and you know it. What about Winnie? Much better.’

Jessie shook his head in disagreement, and so did Tommy, the two boys then doing such a dramatic thumbs-down in unison that, predictably, it had Connie leaning over to aim a swipe at them.

But she grinned coyly when Aiden weighed in on her side with, ‘Clever, very clever, Connie. Winnie is Churchill’s nickname, to which you’re adding the sound a horse makes, and so it works two ways.’

Peggy hid her own smile as she could see that Jessie was the only one who knew for definite that Connie’s momentarily perplexed expression, quickly turning into something more self-congratulatory, concealed her surprise at Aiden’s suggestion that Winnie was a clever melding of meanings. To those in the know, it was nothing more than a happy accident, as Jessie would have safely bet his favourite sixer conker that his sister would never have heard the word ‘whinny’ before. Connie’s pursed lips and immediate widened eyes back at her brother, flashing the signal to keep quiet, instantly confirmed this to her family, and probably most of the others also if they cared to think about it.

To cover up Connie’s uncharacteristic failure to say something smart-aleck, Aiden went on quickly, ‘I like Raffy, after t’ RAF, but Shrapnel’s mint too.’

‘Spitfire!’ yelled Tommy, a bit too enthusiastically, ‘or Hawker, or Hurricane. I know, Trigger!’

‘Well,’ said Angela, ‘ I think we should wait until the horse arrives and then we can come up with the best name that suits him.’

But everyone else had been too busy thinking up names to hear Angela and to let the subject rest as she suggested.

The boys’ thumbs-down appeared in quick succession for the suggestions of Brown Jack (in honour of the famous racehorse – Roger’s idea), Dobbin (Mabel’s, said as a joke, although she then reminded everybody that the pony might already have a name and therefore wouldn’t answer to anything else, and perhaps they should consider the old wives’ tale that it was unlucky to rename a horse), and Sugar (Connie’s second-favourite name, apparently, reasoning that since rationing, sugar was never far from anyone’s thoughts and horses were known for liking sugar lumps).

The children were becoming overexcited by now, which was usually the fast track to somebody ending up with their nose out of joint, and sometimes even in tears. A little reluctantly, Peggy called an end to the debate, declaring it was time for the children to clear the table and do the washing-up, otherwise there’d be no ponies for them at all.

With deliberately loud sighs to show they weren’t happy, nonetheless the youngsters obediently began to see to their chores, with only one under-the-breath whisper from someone of ‘Sugar? That’s a dog’s mess name,’ to which Peggy had to quickly say ‘Connie, that discussion is over now, remember?’ to stop her niece seizing the moment to defend her suggestion and thereby almost definitely extending the conversation on the blessed names until it degenerated into a right old ding-dong of a squabble.

Chapter Two

On the Saturday, once they had finished their morning chores to Mabel’s satisfaction, the children hung around waiting for the new arrival.

They swung on the garden gate, causing nearby butterflies to flutter furiously into the air when the plants at the edge of the drive were disturbed. Then the children had a competition throwing chips of gravel from the short drive in front of the house, down the length of the rear garden, to see who could hoof a chip the furthest. And when Tommy won and started to show off, further disturbing the hens who had been set to panicky clucking by a stray chip that bounced off their zinc water trough, Aiden and Jessie had to wrestle him to the ground so that he didn’t get too above himself.

It was a baking-hot morning right at the end of May in 1940, and it seemed an age before the children heard the unmistakeable sound of a pony’s metal horseshoes on the tarmac of the road outside, clip-clopping in their direction, and then slow down to turn into Tall Trees.

‘’E’s a right little tinker, make no mistake,’ said Mrs Hobbs, the homely farmer’s wife, as she pulled the pony to a halt once she had driven into the back yard and hefted herself down to the ground with a dramatic sigh and a final lurch that made the wooden trap creak as if it were about to do itself a mischief.

The children supposed she was talking about the pony and not any of them.

For the moment nobody could think of anything to say, but Mrs Hobbs didn’t seem to notice, adding before too long, ‘Milburn needs watchin’ as ’e’ll nip yer if yer not careful. An’ ’e’s prone ter gettin’ oot if ’e thinks there’s somethin’ more interestin’ goin’ on elsewhere or ’e thinks ’e can get away wi’ it. ’E don’t kick often, but ’e means it when ’e do, so mind yerselves an’ yer all watch out.’

The children all took a step backwards.

The soft-eyed pony looked bigger up close than when turning into the yard, when the looming appearance of both the comfortably rounded farmer’s wife and the battle-weary trap had dwarfed the hairy-looking beast.

Roger bustled out of the kitchen, wiping his hands dry on a holey and faded tea towel that had once proudly extolled the virtues of Harrogate, followed closely by Mabel. Roger paused too and looked suspiciously at the pony who tossed its head insouciantly in his direction as a reply – or was this a challenge? And then Roger stepped back cautiously in a pantomime version of the way the children just had, although not before a little fleck of foam from the corner of the pony’s mouth from camping at the bit, flew through the air and landed ominously on Roger’s hand.

Only Mabel moved forward to pat the pony’s stocky neck, and the pair eyed each other seriously as if each were weighing up an opponent. ‘The children ’ave ’ad a scrabble o’er t’ name,’ Mabel announced to Mrs Hobbs.

The chestnut blinked solemnly in acknowledgement of what the rector’s wife had said.

‘We’ll ’ave ’e back if yer can’t cope, course, bu’ ’e’s too small fer t’ plough or much else that’s useful on t’ farm, an’ our girt chillen are t’ big fer ’e now an’ we ’aven’t time t’ go up ’ill an’ down dale funnin’ aboot in t’ trap, an’ so yer’s doin’ us a niceness puttin’ ’e up ’ere. An’ ’e’ll pay yer back as ’e’s a worker. Once ’e’s mind’s on it, that is,’ Mrs Hobbs went on as if Mabel hadn’t said anything as to the pony’s name, the last comment having a faintly threatening ring about it nonetheless.

The farmer’s wife looked towards the pony, and then Mrs Hobbs turned to stare at everyone else, before she sighed as if one of them had been found wanting and Milburn shook a shaggy mane as if to deny all association with the sigh. Mrs Hobbs sighed dramatically once more and then swiftly demonstrated how the tack came off, and was put on again; told them what the difference between hay and straw was; and how any hard feed (which he wouldn’t need before the cold weather came) should be given after the pony had been allowed to drink. Then Mrs Hobbs addressed the way the trap was connected to the harness and how the trap could be upended when it wasn’t in use to stop it rolling around; after which she outlined in theory the way the pony should be made to go faster or to stop, or to turn left or right. Then she reminded them again – and this was really important, she insisted – that water should be offered before food, and not the other way around to avoid any danger of colic; while if the pony did get colic they’d need to use a drench, which always caused problems. (Everyone looked very serious at this, especially Milburn.) Finally, Mrs Hobbs produced a hoof pick from a pocket at the front of her floral pinny and the children gasped when they saw how the pony’s generous feathers were grasped and then pulled upwards, so that its feet could be lifted up one at a time to rest on Mrs Hobbs’s bent leg in order that each hoof could be picked, with mud and gravel being scraped out.

From somewhere low down, Mrs Hobbs muttered at last as she leant over, her corduroy trews now stretched dangerously over her ample posterior, ‘’E’s bin shod yesterday an’ ’e answers to Milburn up at t’ farm, but yers all call ’e what yer wants, ’e won’t mind, I dare say.’ The pony’s expression seemed to dispute not minding about the name, and then there was a decisive shake of a long, mole-coloured nose as if to drive the point home. ‘’Is feet’ll need doin’ every day, an’ mark yer do it or you’ll be in fer trouble. As long as yer remember to take ’e t’ smithy every two months at least, an’ more if ’e’s on roads a lot as ’e’ll need t’ shoes kept up and they get slippy otherwise. Yer could drive a bus beside ’e, ’e’s so quiet in traffic,’ finished Mrs Hobbs.

‘Sounds like t’ pony is goin’ t’ ’ave new shoes more often than us,’ said Mabel in the sort of rueful voice that made the adults think about the clothes rationing that was just about to start, and made the children understand anew that nobody was to expect much in the way of treats these days.

Aside from the clothing coupon issue, Roger appeared nothing short of pensive in any case; clearly he hadn’t realised that a pony might be spooked by large vehicles near it, and they could all see that he had no idea what to do in the event of the creature taking fright.

Luckily everyone was distracted from these gloomy thoughts by the sound of an approaching vehicle and then the toot of a horn from a van idling out in the road.

Mrs Hobbs thrust the reins at Mabel, and said goodbye to the pony with a firm slap to its rump that caused it to bunch its quarters and clamp its tail flat down, and then with no more ado than a gruff ‘cheero’, the farmer’s wife bustled out of the yard at Tall Trees to get her lift back to the farm without so much as a backwards glance.

The pony watched her leave, and then turned deep-brown shiny eyes with long eyelashes towards Mabel as if enquiring whether some sort of rather unamusing joke had just been made.

Once the vehicle had driven away there was a long silence, broken only by the clucking of the hens over at the other side of the garden, and then the pony pawed the ground once with a front hoof.

Jessie spied a tiny spark shoot out as the clink of a metal shoe struck a flint in the yard.

‘I don’t think any of our names so far suit him,’ said Angela. ‘What about Lightning?’

The pony was thickset with a large belly slung between short but strong legs, and a bushy tail that almost touched the ground, while a wiry mane and forelock gave a top-heavy impression. As ponies go, it neither looked very fast, or very lightning-like. And to judge by the roll of intelligent eyes the pony didn’t think much of Lightning as a name.

‘I know t’ farmer’s wife kept callin’ the pony ’e, but I think it’s a girl, Angela, and I’ve always believed Lightning seems better as a boy’s name,’ said Aiden tactfully.

Making sure he kept a good distance, Tommy leant down and looked under the hairy belly, before moving around to the rear to peer under a slightly raised tail and then he hooted, ‘That’s a lass all right!’ to which Mabel muttered, ‘I’m not even goin’ t’ ask ’ow yers know that, Tommy …’

So the pony was definitely female. Jessie, who hadn’t been quite sure he’d be able to tell the difference between a girl pony and a boy pony, fancied he saw a look of relief flit across the bright eyes now turned in his direction from beneath the golden forelock.

‘Well, that cuts out Brown Jack, and Winston then too,’ Connie pointed out quickly so that she could keep her advantage in the Great Naming Debate. ‘My two of Winnie or Sugar both work well for a girl horse though, don’t you think?’

‘You should describe her as a mare,’ said Jessie, ‘and technically she’s a pony as she is not tall enough to be a horse, given that she’d be measured in hands of four inches, although of course there is a saying that all ponies are horses but not all horses are ponies … ’ He shut up when he saw the bored expressions on his friends’ faces, with Tommy waving a hand in front of his mouth as if stifling a yawn. All faces other than Aiden’s, that was, as he looked quite interested in these technicalities that somehow Jessie seemed to know, despite only occasionally have patted the milkman’s horse and just the once having stroked the shoulder of a huge, gentle-giant Shire horse with hooves the size of plates and extravagant white feathers fluffing down to the ground, that had been pulling a huge dray to bring a delivery of kegs of beer to the Jolly, the public house nearest to Jubilee Street, where they had grown up in south-east London.

‘Well, let’s give her a chance to get used to her stable, and then we can think about it over lunch,’ said Roger in a voice that he tried to make as rallying as he could, but which everyone could recognise was distinctly dubious. ‘You boys, are you strong enough to push the trap over to that bit of the yard out of the way? I’m sure you are! We must remember to take the pony out of the trap when we have got her and it into a position where it won’t be in the way of the car, in case I need to drive off quickly in an emergency, as we don’t want to be pushing the trap around the yard every day and I especially don’t if it’s in the middle of the night.’

His words were lost as Tommy had set about organising himself, Aiden, Jessie and Connie (Connie being right now, an honorary boy) into lugging several bales of hay (or was it straw?) from the trap to add to the others already in the spare stall, and then manhandling the now much lighter trap to where Roger wanted it to be.

Mabel passed her husband the pony’s reins, and in Roger’s hands the determined creature promptly hauled him over to the small patch of grass at the edge of the back yard, where she determinedly stuck her nose down and grabbed several quick munches.

‘Milburn!’ Mabel said sternly, and both Roger and the pony jumped, Milburn raising her head with such a start that it caused her harness to jangle, and then she opened her mouth dramatically to show all of them her yellow teeth and a crud of partially chewed grass, before she dragged Roger in the direction of her open stable door. She seemed to know just where to go.

‘I, er, er – I’ll just put her inside, shall I? Inside her, er, er, stall. In here, that’s the ticket.’ His voice got quieter as Milburn towed him through the door. ‘Now, how again does this thing come off?’ Roger added as he gazed helplessly at the pony’s tack.

‘It’s called a bridle and what you are holding are the reins, Mrs Hobbs said,’ Jessie clarified. ‘Can I take it off her? You just undo that strap under that big bone at the top underneath her chin and pull the whole thing forward over the ears, holding it at the top of her head. You have to do it smoothly and gently so as not to damage her eyes and teeth. And Mrs Hobbs said, I think, that the pony is used to people standing on her left when they do this and so that might be why she is lifting her lip at you.’

With relief Roger almost threw the long leather reins to Jessie and made a hasty exit from the stall, but not before a soft velvety forehead the colour of butterscotch gave Roger a firm push as he brushed past.

The rector gave what could only be described as a squeak, a little later followed by, ‘I’m, er, sure I’ll get the hang of it by the end of today. I shouldn’t think it’s too difficult. Looking after one small pony, that is. Putting on and taking off her bridle, cleaning her teeth and so forth. Feet! Silly me. I mean cleaning her feet… hooves, I mean. No, no, not too tricky at all, I expect.’ He paused. ‘Does she need her teeth cleaning too, do you think? Goodness, her teeth are big, aren’t they, and so I very much hope not.’

Milburn neighed loudly in reply, her belly quivering, making Roger jump visibly for the second time in only a minute or two.

The children tried not to laugh too conspicuously, while Mabel allowed herself a broad grin.

They all knew already who the boss was, and it certainly wasn’t Roger.

Chapter Three

Several streets away, Peggy was making heavy weather of heaving the battered old perambulator she shared with Gracie back towards Tall Trees, despite it being such a lovely day and the sunlight showing the golden tones in Peggy’s shiny hair to best effect. Her green-sprigged cotton summer dress felt looser than it had even a few days before but Peggy barely noticed, although once upon a time she had been very proud of her trim figure, her tiny waist being the envy of sister, Barbara.

While Peggy had slimmed right down since her pregnancy, baby Holly, now a lively five and a half months, had at last almost caught up with other babies of her age, despite being born two months early. Now, as Peggy pushed her through the sun-dappled shade of the tree-lined street, Holly was cheerfully kicking her crocheted blanket away from her now plumply dimpled legs.

Peggy had been helping out at June Blenkinsop’s teashop, as she did most days. She and June had been talking only that morning about the rapid increase in customers now that the toasted teacakes and pots of tea that June had been serving in a colourful array of delicate china teapots had just about totally given way, due in no small part to Peggy’s staunch encouragement, to a menu of simple but filling hot meals of the meat-and-two-veg variety, and tea served in small metal utilitarian teapots to workers from six in the morning until gone ten at night. Such was the demand from people who were often juggling paid shift work alongside voluntary but nonetheless crucial war roles, that June’s business was thriving. As if to prove the saying that every cloud has a silver lining, the outbreak of war had turned June’s café into a rapidly expanding business, with a growing rota of cooks and Women’s Voluntary Service (WVS) helpers, that meant it was going from strength to strength.

And now it looked as if the business could expand even further as Peggy was in midst of looking into setting up at least one, although ideally two, mobile canteens that could be driven from place to place. After nearly nine months of almost no bombs dropping over England since the war had begun, the newspapers were increasingly claiming the long-expected German aerial offensive must at last be drawing near, and so if the anticipated bombs were about to rain down on them all then mobile canteens would be a godsend in fortifying those who had to deal with the aftermath of such terrible events, and this had got Peggy pondering.

‘June, I’ve thought more about the mobile canteens as you wanted, and I think we could make it work. I’ve totted up some rough figures, we could use the café’s kitchen for the prep and we’d need to sort some metal mugs and plates, but I think we’d get these through the NAAFI suppliers. I think we’d get an old vehicle donated from somewhere like the railways. James…’ Peggy had said to her friend earlier as they sat at a table with cups of tea during a swift twenty minutes after the morning rush and before lunchtime really got going. ‘Yes, you can take that look off your face! James said that if we got a van or something bigger, he thought some of the recuperating men at the hospital could help convert it to a canteen.’

June ignored Peggy’s mention of the handsome young doctor at the new field hospital as she said that, actually for the plates and the vehicle and so forth, it might be sensible if she had a word with the people at the authorities she’d be dealing with over expanding her business. ‘They’ll maybe have a stock of old vehicles set aside that they’ve requisitioned for this sort of thing,’ June added, ‘and I think too, if we get this off the ground, then the WVS and maybe the ATS (Auxiliary Territorial Service) will step in with volunteers.’

‘I was talking about it the other day and Gracie said she was keen to be involved, especially if she can drive the canteen,’ Peggy mentioned.

June and Peggy thought a little further on what Peggy had just said, before they shared a raised-eyebrow look even though they were both very fond of Gracie, a young single mother who also lodged at Tall Trees along with baby Jack, after which Peggy added, ‘Seeing how Gracie rattles that pram around with poor Jack inside, we’d definitely better have metal plates and mugs if she’s going to be driving.’

Peggy and June talked through a few potentially profitable fundraising ideas and the discussion had ended with June suggesting that Peggy might like to consider going into a formal arrangement with June as regards the café. This would mean that rather than Peggy simply manning the café’s till as she did at present, perhaps the two women could arrange something as bold as a proper partnership, with legal papers drawn up as to each woman’s responsibility. June had even gone as far as suggesting they rename the business, with ‘Blenkinsop and Delbert’ being the obvious choice.

Peggy had been so taken aback at June’s generous offer that she hadn’t known what to say, and had been left gawping with her mouth open and closed like a fish. The offer also implied that Peggy would be in Harrogate for some time to come, and while she understood this in the intellectual sense, in practical terms she always felt as if it wouldn’t be long until she and Holly and the twins were back in the crammed streets of south-east London that were so close to her heart, and she could go to see Barbara for a pep talk whenever she was feeling a bit down, which had sometimes happened since Holly’s arrival.

When, after a while, Peggy still hadn’t said anything, June had had to suggest that Peggy think about it for a while and then they could talk about it again when she didn’t feel to be quite so much on the back foot.

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, Peggy,’ June added as she stood up and adjusted her apron ready to go back to the café’s kitchen, ‘but you don’t seem quite yourself today…’

June Blenkinsop had hit the nail on the head. Peggy absolutely wasn’t herself. No, not at all. The partnership discussion with June had been very flattering, naturally, and it had given Peggy a lot to mull over as she had never thought of herself as any sort of businesswoman. But she’d been a schoolteacher in Bermondsey for nearly a decade and so it was hard for her to think of herself as anything else.

Not that Peggy could do much thinking on what June had said just at the moment, as the truth of it was that she had too much else to worry about.

Normally, when Peggy pushed her daughter along, she felt consumed with love for her, as well as a very, very lucky mother indeed. Every few paces she would look down at Holly and make a funny face or say her name, and then the two would smile gaily at each other. Holly’s unexpected arrival on a snowy Christmas Eve had been traumatic to say the least, and indeed it was only the quick thinking of the children at Tall Trees that had saved both Peggy and Holly’s lives. Over a month in hospital under the watchful eye of the wonderfully sympathetic young doctor, James Legard, had meant that Peggy left the hospital feeling recovered and much stronger than she had felt when she had gone in, and with an always peckish although still tiny baby in her arms. But this was understandable as Holly had arrived dangerously early.

Not a day went by when Peggy didn’t remember what a very close call it had turned out to be for both of them, or the many ways in which she would be forever grateful to all concerned. Connie and Jessie, her niece and nephew, had been wonderful, and Peggy felt she might not be around today if they, and their friends, hadn’t acted so quickly and in such a grown-up way when they found her collapsed.

She knew too that her husband Bill was delighted to have a daughter, especially as they had had to wait many long years before, out of the blue, Peggy fell pregnant. They had been so thrilled with the news of Peggy’s pregnancy, as this had seemed to cement the cracks that had been starting to enter the marriage, cracks of frustration and thwarted hopes at their childlessness.

Bill had only been able to get away to pay them just the one visit since Christmas (and it was now spring moving into summer), catching a coach and then a train up to Harrogate one frosty morning in mid-January. After they had hugged and he had chucked Holly under the chin, he had commented on the several evacuees and their parents on the station waiting to catch the train out of the town to return home as more and more parents from the big towns and cities were coming forward to reclaim their kiddies.

But Peggy had hardly taken in what he was saying about the evacuees, so wrapped up was she in the precious sight of Holly’s tiny hand firmly clasping one of Bill’s giant fingers, the gold signet ring on his pinky glinting to remind him and Peggy of their marriage, and the salt tears slipping down Bill’s cheeks as he gazed lovingly down at his daughter.

Just that one perfect memory of a daughter reaching for a father’s finger had been worth a thousand hours of letter-writing and longings for her husband to be by her side. Peggy had allowed her own tears of joy and gratitude to well up as Bill had put his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing her brow and telling Peggy tearfully in a voice choked with gratitude what a clever, clever girl she was to have produced such a beautiful baby, and how lucky Holly was to have Peggy for a mother. It had felt a wonderful moment.

Now, Holly was lying on her back in the bulky black perambulator, looking for all the world as if she was trying to catch her mother’s eye in order to give her a gummy grin.

She tried waving her small pink fists in the air and then putting one hand in her mouth, and when that didn’t work, a spot of further kicking that was so energetic that her thin crocheted pram blanket slipped completely askew. The silken bow that tied on a white bootee that Aunty Barbara had knitted loosened, and Holly did her best to work it off as she was sure Peggy wouldn’t be able to ignore that.

But Holly’s efforts, no matter how determined the baby was, were destined to fail, as Peggy’s brow remained wrinkled and her dark eyes anxious, as she stared unseeing into the distance while huffing and puffing the perambulator up the hill.

The reason for Peggy’s pensive expression and clenched jaw this sunny May day was because first thing that morning she had received a cryptic card from Bill, who was still located somewhere in the UK (she thought, although Bill had never been exactly specific as to quite what he was up to) as he had intimated he was now training tank drivers somewhere near the coast of Suffolk. Or might it be Norfolk?

Peggy had felt unsettled since the moment she’d laid eyes on the card. Somehow even before she picked it up to read, it seemed to beckon menacingly at her, driving thoughts asunder of the new pony and trap she could hear the children talking about, or Gracie wanting to have use of the perambulator in the afternoon. And reading Bill’s scribbled words had given Peggy no reassurance at all.

Before he’d been called up from Bermondsey for his military training, Bill had been a bus conductor on the number 12 bus that went from south-east London to the West End, or occasionally he was put on the number 63, and he’d hugely enjoyed the daily banter with his passengers. Sometimes, if the depot was short of drivers, he’d not put up a fuss if he’d been asked to get behind the steering wheel instead, even though Bill had often said to Peggy that it was nowhere near as much of a hoot driving a double-decker as it was dealing with all and sundry as he stood in his smart conductor’s uniform ready to take their fares. Once war had been declared and it became obvious to the authorities what his previous job had been, it made sense therefore to all that Bill turned his experience into helping less experienced drivers gain the knowhow of manhandling heavy vehicles. And that really was all that Peggy knew about what he did these days.

Bill was no letter-writer at the best of times, and so for Peggy to receive a card from him, the second in a week, was unusual to say the least. In fact it had never happened before.

The card merely said: ‘Peggy, we need to have a word – I will telephone you on Sunday, Bill’.

In fact it was so out of character for Bill to contact her again so soon after the last missive that now she was unable to dispel a niggle of worry that had multiplied and grown over the morning so it was now a seething mass squirming uncomfortably just beneath her ribcage, increasing in intensity with every passing hour. She couldn’t stop chewing over the fact that on Bill’s card there had been etched no ‘love’, ‘fondest wishes’ or ‘missing you’, or even ‘thinking about our dear Holly’, the last of which was a given in his communications these days. Most concerning though was that there hadn’t been the whiff of even one ‘X’ either, not to her, and – unbelievably – not to Holly.

Something was up, Peggy knew as surely as eggs were eggs.

And she was just as certain that whatever it was that had provoked Bill to contact her so soon after his last card (which had arrived only on the previous Monday and had been gaily filled with casual chatter about card games and japes to do with the NAAFI, before sending love to her and Holly, with a multitude of kisses) was likely to be something that she wasn’t going to like in the slightest.

Peggy rarely experienced the sensation of a twinge of piercing worry as she was naturally quite a calm and resourceful person, but whenever she had had such a stab of anxiety in the past, it had always proved to be the precursor of something extremely trying at best, and downright infuriating at worst.

As she manoeuvred the perambulator into the drive at Tall Trees and headed toward the back yard (they all tended to use the back door to enter the house through the kitchen rather than the imposing front door that scraped heavily across the stone flags of the hall), Peggy was so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice the upended trap in the corner of the back yard, its wooden shafts pointing up to the sky as if to announce it was keeping its own special lookout for enemy aircraft high above them in the endless blue sky. She and Holly had left Tall Trees to head for June’s teashop that morning before the children had come down to breakfast, and since then she had completely forgotten about the new arrival.

The small chestnut mare, only just big enough to be able to angle her head upwards so that she could look over the rather high half-door (clearly made for a creature larger than she), thoughtfully watched Peggy bounce the pram across the bumpy yard.

She almost let out a neigh just in case Peggy had a stray carrot lurking in her pocket, but there was something so distracted about Peggy’s demeanour that the whip-smart pony quickly divined it wasn’t worth bothering.

Peggy shoved the brake on the pram down with her foot and gathered Holly into her arms, not noticing the delicate blanket hadn’t been grasped too as was usual, or that there was now a bootee amiss.

Holly didn’t appreciate not being the centre of her mother’s attention, and she gave a little cry just as a reminder that she was there and that she was looking forward to her lunchtime feed.

Peggy didn’t say the soothing ‘shush, poppet’ or ‘there’s my girl’ that Holly expected, or give her a jiggle to make her laugh, or swing her high into the air.

Instead her mother’s face remained stony as she clutched Holly a little tighter and concentrated on balancing her in her arms along with her handbag and a lentil ‘surprise’ in a tin pie-dish that she had bought from June for their supper later on, whilst also trying to open the kitchen door.

There was only one thing for it, and Holly filled her baby lungs to capacity so that she could produce the first in a rapidly escalating series of loud wails that no mother could ignore.

Laying her ears flat against her head, Milburn dipped her head back inside the box and dropped her nose down to inspect her empty bucket just in case she had missed a morsel. She couldn’t compete with that racket and she wasn’t going to try.

Chapter Four

The next day arrived, which was Sunday, and the sense of excitement from the previous morning still held strong amongst the children, not least as there was due to be another arrival at Tall Trees.

Larry was moving back up to Yorkshire to take up residence with them once again, and everyone was looking forward to it as the atmosphere just hadn’t felt the same in the rectory since he had departed several months earlier.

Larry had attended Jessie and Connie’s school back in Bermondsey, and so the previous September he’d been evacuated up to Harrogate along with the twins, Angela, and indeed the rest of their school too.

Larry had had a chequered time in Harrogate, having been bullied at first and then later moving to Tall Trees where life settled for him a little. But with the Phoney War dragging on and on, his mother Susan had arrived at the end of January to take him with her, back to London.

Once Larry had been waved off on the train Jessie and Connie had been very subdued for the rest of that day. Although they suspected that Larry might be going back to a rocky situation inside his family home, as his father was known for being a lout, they couldn’t help but wish that they were also on the train heading south with the prospect of seeing their own mother, Barbara, and father, Ted, very soon and moving back into their two-up two-down in Jubilee Street in Bermondsey to be a proper family again. Harrogate and Tall Trees was fine as far as it went, the glum faces of the twins seemed to say when they were alone together, but despite all that Roger and Mabel did to make them feel settled, it just wasn’t their home, was it? And they did miss their parents terribly. Peggy knew what they meant – she had mixed feelings about their evacuation too.

Unfortunately for Larry, the situation he found back in London turned out to be every bit as unpleasant as he’d feared it would be. Peggy knew that Larry’s father, Trevor, had been banned several times from the Jolly, and other public houses too, but business was business and somebody such as Trevor did spend a lot of money, so a temporary ban was more a rap on the knuckles for poor behaviour rather than anything permanent.

Peggy had taught Larry back in Bermondsey, and she had once had a worrisome run-in with Trevor in the street a day after she had encouraged Larry to take a storybook home so that he could finish off the chapter he’d begun reading aloud in class and had been very taken with. A clearly tipsy Trevor had demanded aggressively, even going so far as to poke Peggy in the arm with a ragged-nailed nicotine-stained finger, to know if she could be so good as to explain why it was that she was wasting Larry’s time with something so pig-ugly useless as a piece of make-believe. Peggy tried to say that The Family from One-End Street had a lot to recommend it, and that Larry’s engagement was excellent news.

Trevor hadn’t been having any of it, with the result that the next day Peggy had had to say to Larry during morning playtime that perhaps it would be a good idea if he tried to get all his reading done in the classroom during the day and not take any storybooks home again. It was no surprise to Peggy that Larry never willingly picked up a storybook in her classroom again. She had always felt bad that she hadn’t stuck up for Larry more, but, although she would never admit this out loud to anyone, she had felt scared and intimidated by the gruff tones and beery stench of Larry’s father.

Once Larry was back in London Peggy suspected that, older and wiser, he’d be less tolerant of Trevor’s evil moods. Peggy’s intuition proved correct and Larry’s mother had telephoned Mabel from the Jolly – it was actually the first time Susan had ever made a telephone call off her own bat – when, clearly at the end of her tether, she had asked in a quavering voice if there were any way that Larry could come back to Tall Trees for a little while? Mabel confessed to Peggy that she’d thought she’d heard a muffled sob, before Larry’s mother added in a tight voice, ‘Only until things settle at ’ome, that is, you unnerstan’. I’m sure it’ll calm directly.’

Roger and Mabel had been very generous in welcoming a gaggle of strangers into their home, and after a sticky period where their good intentions had been tainted by son Tommy’s vindictive response to the arrival of a lot of strange-seeming children from London arriving at Tall Trees, eventually an easier equilibrium had been established. The atmosphere lightened further once Aiden Kell and Larry had moved in. And then Angela had arrived a couple of months later to make the ensemble complete, and although her wheelchair meant she couldn’t share Connie’s bedroom upstairs, she had fitted in with no trouble.

Tommy’s large bedroom had been made into a dorm for the four boys, and although they could be loud at times and the bedroom always looked fearsomely untidy, Mabel having to shut the door on it every time she walked by despite her high tolerance for clutter, there was something about the dynamic that made the lads all rub along together without too much ribbing or outright argument under the new regime, and so Larry had been missed when he had gone back to London.

Connie slept in her little box room at the far end of the corridor to the boys’ room, while Angela was in a snug on the ground floor, not far from the large kitchen.

The two bedrooms on the second floor, up above the other bedrooms and high in the eaves, had Peggy and Holly in one, with Gracie and baby Jack in the other. Having to navigate so many stairs obviously wasn’t ideal for the new mothers, but once they had moved into Tall Trees proper, across from their previous room above the stables during the cold weather, somehow they had never moved out of the main house and back into their old lodgings. As Gracie joked, all the stairs helped them get their figures back double-quick after the babies had arrived.

Tall Trees was definitely a full house these days, with or without Larry, and Peggy sometimes felt there were just too many people jammed together under the one roof, but then she would chastise herself for being so uppity as she knew that few evacuees had been welcomed the way they had by Roger and Mabel. There was a war on, after all, and there were many far worse places to be than in a large and trifle chaotic rectory, with chickens in the garden providing daily eggs, and constant fresh greens from a sizeable vegetable patch that they all took turns in digging out (Peggy thought that was the term) and planting up.

With a bit of luck they’d all be home for Christmas, Peggy sometimes sighed to herself when stuck in a queue for the bathroom. Then she would remember she had thought precisely the same thing the previous autumn; and look how that had worked out.

Anyway, nobody was thinking much about any of this as while Roger was taking his Sunday morning services at church, the atmosphere back at the rectory was one of excitement about Larry returning.

There were crisply ironed sheets on his bunk, and a clean folded towel on the pillow.

‘I know, let’s put somethin’ in Larry’s bed ter gi’ ’im a surprise later,’ said Tommy to Jessie, once Aiden – who could be a bit of a killjoy, he was so sensible – had gone down to feed the hens along with Connie.

‘What about Connie’s hairbrush? Nice and bristly if you’re not expecting it.’ Jessie’s eyes twinkled at the thought.

‘Sweet,’ said Tommy, and then he kept watch on the landing corridor while Jessie crept into Connie’s bedroom to retrieve the brush.

Carefully, they pushed it down Larry’s bed with an old coat hanger so as not to disturb Mabel’s hospital corners of the sheets and blankets, making sure that the bristles were left pointing towards the pillow so that Larry’s toes would find it when he slipped into bed later. Finally, they covered the small mound it made with the towel.

‘A good job done. After all, Larry’d be upset if we didn’t do something like this to welcome him back,’ added Jessie gravely, as he and Tommy stood back to admire their work.

The children couldn’t wait to see what Larry would make of them having a real flesh-and-blood pony to hand. He was totally unused to animals, which naturally made Mabel’s cat Bucky, a giant black and white tom with ears carefully scalloped from his many presumably victorious fights, especially affectionate around him, much to Larry’s embarrassment. But Bucky was persistent, and even after Larry had gone to London had continued to wait for him, nestling on his bed each night with his forepaws turned towards each other and tucked under.

Eventually the greeting party for Larry assembled ready to walk over to the station, although Connie had made a bit of a fuss about being unable to brush her hair properly and Angela had had to lend Connie her hairbrush in order that they wouldn’t be late.

There had been a debate about whether Milburn could come with them to the station and the children had tossed a halfpenny. The vote had gone in Milburn’s favour and it wasn’t long before Jessie was standing in the back yard holding the hemp lead rope to Milburn’s halter as the pony carefully nosed his pockets, hoping a treat was there. Connie and Aiden stood alongside but they’d made sure they were out of harm’s way, just in case Milburn went to nip or kick, as although she’d been sweet enough when the pair of them had taken her out for an hour’s grazing earlier on some road verges, they didn’t yet fully trust the small mare.

A minute or two passed as they waited for Tommy to hoist Angela’s chair over the lip of the back-door step, so that they could all, Milburn included, head over to the station.

As the children trailed through the back yard Peggy was in the kitchen with a serious look on her face and, despite the heat of the day, was feeling cold and a bit shaky. Ten minutes or so earlier, she had put Holly down for a nap in a deep drawer that had once been the bottom one in a dark-wood chest, but which was now used by either Peggy or Gracie if their little ones needed a nap while their mothers were preparing food or sitting together to have a natter over a cuppa, and now Peggy was pensively sipping on a cup of tea, staring out the kitchen window. She felt tense as she waited for Bill to telephone her, and she had slept poorly. Nonetheless, it was impossible not to notice how well the kiddies looked and how brightly Milburn’s butterscotch coat shone in the sunlight.

Peggy’s squirm of apprehension went into wriggling overdrive with the posh-sounding ring of the telephone on the desk in Roger’s study, and she hurried to answer it.

She was almost certain it was Bill on the end of it, even though if it was, he was ringing earlier than she expected, but as she picked up the receiver she still didn’t know whether she was ready to hear what he might have to say.

Chapter Five

There was no getting around it. From the anticipatory clank of her husband dropping his large copper pennies into the money slot at the bottom of the apparatus in the public telephone box, something sounded off. There was a metal creak of a door hinge in need of an oil, and Bill’s very first word – a solitary but strangely formal ‘Peg’ – told Peggy that without a shadow of doubt something most unsavoury was about to be revealed.

Standing in front of Roger’s desk, Peggy had leant forward and pulled out his chair, but as she heard the delay that told her that Bill was taking his time feeding his pennies into the slot, she thought better of sitting down. She decided that with a bit of luck, if she stayed standing she might be braver facing whatever unpleasant news it was that she was about to learn.

It felt as if she might be teetering on the edge of a deep, dark abyss. Peggy wasn’t sure why this was, but she supposed she hadn’t been married to Bill for such a long time without knowing him inside and out. And there was something so off-key beckoning to her from that one word of greeting that a precipice seemed undoubtedly to be widening below her, calling her into its depths. She couldn’t say she was totally surprised, given the lack of love and kisses on the postcard that he’d sent her, but still…

The downbeat tone of his ‘Peg’ had cast aside any sign of his normal irrepressible cheeky cockney banter. If Peggy were honest, Bill had never been much of a looker but he’d always had the gift of the gab and had been the sort of chap who could charm the birds from the trees, and so Peggy had been seduced all those years ago by the extent to which he’d made her laugh much more than by his looks.

Now it was worrying that all echoes of this cheery repartee that she’d once loved so much had given way to something that sounded clamped down and oddly wary of her. In fact, such was the contrast, that if her husband hadn’t greeted Peggy by name, she doubted that she would have believed it was him.

‘Peg?’ she heard Bill say again into the pregnant silence between them, almost in a dry-throated whisper this time. ‘Are you there? Peggy?’

She took a fleeting instant to think of Holly, and the love and strong bond she had with her sister Barbara, and the kindness she had found since arriving in Harrogate at the rectory with Roger and Mabel, and with her new friend June. It was an emboldening moment.

‘I am here, Bill,’ Peggy composed herself and answered quietly with carefully enunciated words, and then she paused, once more allowing the silence to billow softly around her.

She heard Bill swallow in reply, and for an instant she imagined the dip and rise of his prominent Adam’s apple giving a small punch under his shirt collar.

‘Holly and I have been waiting for your call,’ Peggy filled the quiet, deliberately mentioning Holly as she wanted to remind her husband that there were two of them up in Harrogate who were dependent upon whatever it was that he wanted to get off his chest.

She heard Bill take another mighty swallow and then the clink of him putting something made of glass down on something metal. His swallowing sounded round and deep, and it has been immediately preceded by a faint smacking noise almost as if his lips were retreating from a kiss, and it was a sound that told Peggy that he’d swigged directly from a bottle, and that he hadn’t poured whatever it was that he was drinking into a glass. For all the world it sounded as if the beverage were alcoholic, and so Peggy guessed Bill was dosing himself with Dutch courage.

This was out of character, as although Bill did enjoy a pint now and again he was actually normally only an extremely moderate drinker. In ten years of marriage Peggy had only seen him veer slightly towards what she and Barbara called merry on a couple of occasions. Never once had she seen him drunk or stumbling around through being in his cups, and nor had she ever spied him imbibing alcohol directly from any sort of bottle, as he could be a bit priggish at times as regards the proper way of doing things, looking down on this sort of what he would call ‘low’ behaviour.

‘Peg. Peggy,’ Bill repeated.

His slight slur on the ‘Peggy’ told her he was definitely was more than vaguely tipsy.

Oh dear, this wasn’t good at all.

‘Bill, is there something you can sit down on?’ Peggy was relieved that she sounded calm as she spoke these intentionally domestic-sounding, caring words, not that she felt particularly caring right at that minute, but she was starting to feel that for her to claim the moral high ground could only be to her advantage.

For the first time in their marriage she didn’t want her husband to know quite how she was feeling – which was rattling – even though she really had the most peculiar feeling cresting and then pulsing through her, and her hands and feet had become suddenly icy cold.

Peggy thought she heard a soft bump that she took to be Bill leaning back suddenly against the wall of the public telephone box. Just for a second she fancied she could smell the distinctive paint the telephone service used to paint their boxes and that always seemed to linger.

She gathered herself together. ‘What is it you want to say? Why don’t you just come out with it? I’m sure you’ll feel better afterwards, Bill.’

‘Peg, I’ve been a bloody fool. A right bloody fool, I’ve been.’ There was a further glugging noise, and a small belch. ‘She’s called Maureen, Peg. Maureen, she’s called’.

Peggy blinked in crossness at the way Bill kept repeating himself, rather than getting straight to the point, but she didn’t say anything – ‘’an she were right fun, an’ I were stupid an’ daft. An’ one thing led to another an’, well, er, yer know! Yer must know what I’m tryin’ ter say, Peg.’

‘I can’t say that I do know, Bill,’ replied a prudishly tight-lipped Peggy.

Heavens to Betsy! she thought to herself when Bill didn’t reply to her immediately. Not only was he breaking to her some pretty dreadful news she was now certain, but he was doing it in a really cack-handed manner.

‘Bill, why don’t you put it down to me having given birth to our baby not so long ago, that dear little baby girl that we so wanted and had to wait such a while for’ – Peggy paused deliberately for added drama – ‘and this means that my mind might not right now be as good or as sharp as it once was. And so, I’m afraid, my dear husband, that you’re going to need to spell it out to me, quite what it is that that you have been up to.’

She could hear Bill shift his weight around in the confined space almost as if the words she’d emphasised had kept pushing him in the chest. And then he made a strange noise as if he felt strangled. It was obvious that he wasn’t enjoying this conversation in the slightest. Good.

Peggy imagined Bill as clearly as if he were right before her, standing in the public telephone box with the telephone receiver wedged between chin and shoulder, and a bottle of beer in one hand while with the other he supported his weight by leaning on the metal that made the wall at the back of the box as he stared down in shame.

Well, at least abject shame was the look on his face that she hoped was there.

The foreboding silence grew and throbbed between them.

And then there was a damp croon.

With a start Peggy realised that her husband was sobbing.

Once, her heart would have gone out to him, but now she couldn’t believe these wet sounds to be anything other than mere crocodile tears. Any last shred of respect she had for him evaporated, as she felt Bill was crying only because he must have been caught out somehow, doing something he shouldn’t have been doing – surely this had to be the case given that he was ringing her yet only describing what had gone on with huge reluctance – and certainly not because he felt he’d made any sort of terrible mistake. It was likely he’d have been happy with the state of affairs if there hadn’t been some sort of incident or accident, Peggy told herself, and then she berated herself for thinking of the situation as in any way an accident. After all, there was absolutely nothing accidental about what Bill had been up to if he was having to apologise to his wife like this.

So Bill bloody well should be weeping, Peggy thought. She drew her shoulders back and noticed in a mirror hanging on Roger’s wall that the reflection of her normally generous lips revealed that they had unintentionally closed in on themselves, shrinking to a harsh line that was aging and distinctly unattractive. Peggy narrowed her eyes as she tried to think of the most hurtful retort she could make, and the mirror-Peggy frowned threateningly back. It wasn’t a pleasant sight.

‘Be a man, Bill. You owe me that at least, surely? No true man would keep me guessing at anything else you need to say to me.’

It wasn’t very strong as insults go, but it was the best that Peggy could come up with at that moment.

Peggy would never have believed even a few minutes ago, before she picked up the telephone to Bill, that she could experience such an emotional chasm stretching and growing between them, or that it could feel so treacherous or so cavernous.

It was hard to credit how once they had been so very close that Peggy had occasionally felt as if one took in a breath, then it would be the other one who would expel it.

There had been hiccups between them in recent years but probably not more so than most couples had to endure, Peggy had told herself on more than one occasion. But with her much longed-for pregnancy, she had wholeheartedly believed that she and Bill had safely navigated choppy waters.

Bill rallied. ‘Maureen works, er, worked, at the NAAFI as a volunteer, an’ we’d ’ave the odd drink an’ then that became mebbe a bit o’ a laugh on the odd evening in the local pub. I didn’t see any ’arm in it at first, ’onest I didn’t, Peg – yer ’ave ter believe that.’

With a vehement shake of her head, Peggy didn’t think she did have to believe that at all.

Bill couldn’t see her reaction, of course, and so he ploughed on. ‘But one day ’er sister were away an’, er, well, I took the opportunity of mitchin’ off camp an’ then – an’ I still don’t know how it really ’appened – I found myself stayin’ over wi’ ’er as she was very persuasive,’ he said very quickly in a voice now higher pitched than was usual.

‘When was this?’ Peggy made sure her words remained low and slow, and she fancied she could feel Bill’s answering wince racketing down the telephone cord straight to the old-fashioned Bakelite handset she was grasping so tightly. She felt compelled to know all the sordid details of what Bill had been up to.

‘She were fun, an’ ’er ’air reminded me of yours, Peg. An’ she fair set ’er cap at me, all the lads ’ere said so. It were first on Bonfire Night that we, er, um, um, yer know, Peg … yer know! An’ I suppose that I then jus’ kept on seein’ her as mebbe I thought I could get away wi’ it as I were missin’ you right badly. But it were only if I could wrangle time away from the camp – yer know wot I mean – an’ she were ’ere and you weren’t, an’ yer know that I never liked sleepin’ alone.’ Bill had to feed some more pennies in at this point, and Peggy took the opportunity to wipe under her eyes.

His voice rang out again, ‘I didn’t want to as such— ’ Peggy snorted with contempt at this point ‘but she were insistent, although when I got back from ’ers on Christmas morning to find that yours an’ my little love ’olly had been born, and you’d ’ad such a fright, I thought enough’s enough, an’ I didn’t wan’ ter see ’er any more, an’ I told ’er so. But Maureen wouldn’t let me go, an’ then she threatened ter telephone you “to put you right”, an’ so then it were easier ter go along with it fer a while at least, while I made up my mind what to do. Er, you weren’t there an’ anyways I thought you’d never find out.’ Bill sighed dramatically as if he was in physical pain, and as if by mere chance life had dealt him a bad set of playing cards.

And then finally he confessed in a very small voice, ‘An’ now she’s ’avin’ my baby.’

If Peggy had thought the news of Bill having sexual relations with another woman was the worst thing she could hear, it was now hideous to discover that with the news of his forthcoming bastard offspring came a new depth of hurt and despair. She couldn’t believe that Bill could have been so stupid or so cruel.

Suddenly Peggy felt even hotter than she had before, and then deathly cold. Her belly slid icily lower, and for a fleeting but nonetheless terrible moment her mouth flooded with saliva and she thought she might vomit. She struggled to regain her equilibrium.

This was the worse of all possible outcomes.

Of course she had grasped already that sexual relations with another woman was what Bill had been up to. But to hear him actually put into words that he had made another woman – his floozy! – pregnant provoked a totally animal response from somewhere deep within her that was unlike anything Peggy had ever experienced.

She thought about what her husband had just told her, and then she realised with a huge jolt so powerful that it was as if she had just stuck one of her fingers straight into a live electric plug socket, that she and Bill had only been apart for a mere two months before he had given into temptation despite the wedding vows they had solemnly made to each other, vows she had always been proud to hold dear.

How could he?

She would never have done that to him.

How could he, the rat, the pig?

She hated Bill right at that moment. Loathed, and detested, and – well, she couldn’t think of any other word to describe what she felt at that moment – just absolutely hated him.

It was a hatred that felt pure and strangely fortifying.

If Bill had been standing in front of her, Peggy felt almost as if she might have leapt at him and tried to hurt him physically with her bare hands, marking indelibly the body that in the dark she had once enjoyed running her hands over so much, such was the abject rage that immediately began to thrust furiously up and down and through what felt like every cell of her own body, her pulse thumping with a beat faster than it ever had, surpassing even its most delicious throes of passion.

Peggy knew she verged on the unhinged as she began to shout, but she was suddenly beyond caring. ‘Did you not for one moment think about your own wife and baby, who have both been missing you and longing for you, Bill? The woman – me! – whom you made a solemn vow, standing before our friends and families in church, to honour each other come what may, or our child who was conceived after such a long time, a baby that you said that you were so happy about and that was the light of your life? Is this how you want someone to treat your own little girl, our dear Holly, when she is all grown up? Is what you’ve done the sort of behaviour and the type of person you wish for her to marry, a shallow and selfish man who is unable to keep his trousers done up? I was reluctant to come to Harrogate, but I did it because you were insistent and I wanted to keep you happy, and now I wish I’d just stayed at home as keeping you happy clearly isn’t worth a bean.’

Peggy paused and looked downwards towards the quivering hem of her skirt caused by her trembling knees, and then she continued bitterly before Bill could say anything in his own defence. ‘That little tart. That horrible stupid little tart. Maureen? Maureen… Maureen! What sort of name is that? And you’re no better than she! You’re a pathetic excuse for a husband, Bill Delbert. What could that trollop Maureen have ever seen in you? And what did I see in you? You tell me now, this very minute, Bill Delbert, precisely when that stupid strumpet is having your baby?’

Peggy was close to screeching, unable to control her emotions in any way, although in this maelstrom of feeling she remembered guiltily for a split second that once she’d actually had a very nice friend at teacher training college called Maureen and so actually really she had nothing against women with the name, other than this particular piece of work, of course.

Then Peggy realised with a whump that almost made her physically crumple, forcing her to grab the back of Roger’s desk chair in support, that at the very moment she herself had been close to rapture with a burst of sunshine springing from her heart at seeing a tiny Holly reaching innocently for her father’s finger when Bill came to meet his daughter for the very first time, the truth of it was that her supposedly loyal husband was nursing, close to his heart, the dangerous viperous secret of his infidelity and another woman opening her legs for him as she beckoned to him from under the covers. And so a precious memory that Peggy had believed was good and pure had been, in a crushing twinkling of an eye, tainted and besmirched for all time, leaving her flattened and despondent.

Peggy felt a shriek of anguish building in her, but she forced herself to hold it in, although her hand holding the telephone was vibrating violently with the effort.

‘I noticed Maureen were plump round the middle a few days ago an’ she says she’s got three months to go.’ Bill sounded glum as he went on regardless, and as if he’d given in.

Then Peggy did the mathematics in her head, and suddenly her need to know any further grisly details of the affair evaporated into a puff of nothingness. She understood that Maureen had almost definitely already been pregnant when Bill travelled to Harrogate to see Holly. It may be illogical, but the very idea of him playing the doting daddy in Yorkshire having already fathered somebody else’s baby was nothing short of abhorrent in Peggy’s eyes.

‘Well, you’ve made your bed, Bill Delbert, and now you have to lie in it. For your information, I shall take care that you never see Holly again,’ Peggy declared.

Bill let out what she could only think of as a howl, and an instant later Peggy heard the sound of shattering glass as presumably her husband had in temper flung his beer bottle furiously to the concrete floor of the telephone box.

‘Holly is innocent and untainted by anything,’ Peggy went on resolutely, as if Bill were standing there eager to hear what she had to say. ‘She certainly doesn’t need to be contaminated by somebody as morally reprehensible as you, not now, and not ever, Bill. Do you hear me? Do you hear me?! And as for myself, I hope never to see you again. I don’t care what it costs, and I don’t care if I have to work for the rest of my life to pay it off and I don’t care how people will look down on me for being divorced. Your monkey business with that MaureenFromTheNAAFI tart is going to cost you, and I’m not thinking about money.

‘Our treasure is Holly, and as far as you are concerned she’s been thrown to the wolves by you, and there’s no return from that. I really hope that MaureenFromTheNAAFI gave you the very best time ever between the sheets, as if she didn’t, well, words fail me.’

It was very unlike Peggy to veer onto such coarse territory, but she wanted oh so badly to shock Bill.

‘She didn’t, Peg, she were nothing like as good as—’ he said weakly.

‘Tough, Bill. Tough.’ Peggy’s tone was brutal as she cut him dead.

She willed herself not to sob, but to avoid the risk she didn’t give Bill the opportunity to say anything else.

As, surprisingly softly, she replaced the handset on the telephone, Peggy heard Bill’s last-ditch plaintive appeal sound increasingly tinny as she moved the handset from her ear and put it back in its place on the base of the telephone, his ‘But I love yo—’ being sliced off decisively.

She stood head bowed and statue-still at first. But it wasn’t long before Peggy started to sway from side to side, and she had to grab hold of the edge of the desk to steady herself, as wave after wave of fresh emotion swept over her, and then washed back through what felt like every fibre of her very being.

And then with a long clamped-down shriek of what felt like agony Peggy picked up the closest thing to her, which was the leather desk tidy in which Roger kept the pencils that he used to draft his sermons, and she hurled the whole lot with as much force as she could muster against the wall, the pencils cascading to the ground and then bouncing merrily around, with Roger’s carefully sharpened lead points shearing off the pencils as they smashed against the stone flags of the floor.

The crash was a surprisingly loud noise that cut across the calm of Tall Trees and wrecked the peace.

But Peggy couldn’t hear anything now, such was the rushing of blood in her ears. Keening desperately, she continued to rock both left and right.

She picked up the pile of scrap paper on which Roger would write and she rent it this way and that, virtually growling with the effort of ripping it into tiny unusable squares, and then with a final shove of her elbow she cast the telephone and handset off the desk, the loud crash and the strange hawk of the telephone’s ring of surprise at such harsh treatment finally quelling Peggy’s temper.

Exhausted, she sank down onto Roger’s desk chair, with the chaos of his desk settling askew on the floor around her, and bitter sobs shuddering her slim shoulders and setting her curls a-quiver as she leant forward on her folded arms and howled, wishing herself to be any place but where she was.

Roger and Mabel, who had been inspecting the vegetable patches on their way back from church and had only just come through the kitchen door, came running, their faces panicked at the unusual sounds erupting from within the study.

However, when Roger saw the state Peggy was in, he stayed on the other side of the door and stood aside to make way for his wife, as he beckoned Mabel forward in place of himself.

He knew Mabel would be much better at the helm of this situation than he.

As the older woman crouched down to clasp an exhausted Peggy to her breast without saying a word, Peggy gave into ugly, animal noises and a fresh avalanche of tears.

A worry-faced Roger was left to creep into the office as silently as he could, stepping behind the women so that he could replace the receiver on the telephone as he always felt panicky at the thought of a parishioner in distress being unable to reach him, although he left the telephone on the floor, after which, without catching the eye of either woman, he hotfooted it to the kitchen in order to deal with baby Holly.

She had been rudely woken by all the kerfuffle in the study and was keen to let everybody know this, bellowing with all the strength she could muster in her little lungs in tandem with the throaty blubs of her distraught mother just across the passageway.

Chapter Six

Over at the train station Jessie and Angela remained outside with a bored-looking Milburn, while the other children headed onto the platform to wait for Larry.

After Jessie had gently teased Angela that he and Connie thought that maybe Tommy had a bit of a soft spot for her, Angela went very pink, leaving Jessie to guess whether she might reciprocate these feelings.

Angela noticed Jessie’s expression reveal all too clearly that he was pondering what she and Tommy thought about each other, and so as a distraction she quickly reminded Jessie again of lots of the things she had learnt in the library about ponies, which seemed to make much more sense now that they had Milburn standing in front of them

When she had run out of useful titbits to share, she was relieved to see her tactic had worked, as Jessie said that he wondered if Milburn was well behaved when ridden, as he rather fancied a go.

At this Milburn gave Jessie what seemed like such a look of disgust, followed by a shake of her head that jangled the metal bit in her mouth and set her springy mane and forelock bouncing as if to say No-o-o-o at the very thought, and both children couldn’t do anything but laugh.

‘She’s good, isn’t she?’ said Angela, and Milburn nodded.

‘Yes, she seems to be,’ Jessie agreed, although the moment was immediately somewhat spoilt as Milburn swiftly dipped her nose into the wicker basket of a passing woman and nimbly lifted out a greaseproof-paper-wrapped sandwich, much to the ire of the woman and the embarrassment of the children.

Jessie wrestled the package from Milburn’s mouth, and then he offered it back to its owner, who took one look at the slobbered paper and the indent of the pony’s teeth and said crossly, ‘Those were fer my Bert, but ’e won’t want them now, will ’e? An wot’ll he ’ave fer his dinner now, an’ ’e’s on blackout checkin’ after? T’ pony had better have ’em, I s’ppose, an’ mind you keep more control of ’im in future. There’s a war on, you know.’

The affronted woman stalked away, and Jessie and Angela exchanged glances and then as one they looked accusingly at Milburn, who was concentrating very hard on the package in Jessie’s hand.

‘I suppose I ought to have paid more attention to Milburn,’ admitted Jessie, sounding a little guilty.

‘Poor Burt,’ said Angela, and the mere mention of him made the children hoot.

Jessie unwrapped the sandwiches, which had reconstituted egg as the filling. He and Angela gave the top one to Milburn, who snaffled it greedily, but they decided the bottom one wasn’t too squished for themselves to eat and so they shared it quickly, keen to finish before the others came back.

They talked then of the posters they could see up, seeing the irony of a poster urging a visit to the Yorkshire dales smack bang alongside a poster of a British Tommy questioning ‘Is your journey really necessary?’ Angela angled her chair slightly differently so that she could see the other side of the station’s entrance, where there was another poster urging people to bring their own cups and glasses to railway refreshment rooms as they were often running short, but the children couldn’t find much to interest them or to joke about in this last poster.

After what seemed hours, there was the sound of an ancient puffing billy chugging slowly into the station, at which Milburn held her head very high, her small ears so pointed towards where she could hear the unfamiliar sound coming from, that their darker tips looked to be almost touching.

As the sound of the final burst of steam from the train’s engine gave way to the noise of doors opening and the passengers alighting, Angela started to say, ‘It won’t be long before Lar—’ when Connie’s unmistakeable voice rang out in a loud and high-pitched yelp that sounded as heartfelt as it was hard to interpret.

It was such an unexpected outburst that Jessie immediately felt queasy as these days, like so many other people, he tended to overreact to any unexpected shock, knowing that it could herald bad news, and he swung towards Angela, whereupon the children stared at each other with worried faces.

Then Jessie sprang forward as he dropped the lead rope to Milburn’s halter so that it dangled in the road. Uncaring and with his thoughts of paying more attention to the pony completely forgotten, he fairly pelted towards the station platform to run to his twin’s aid.

Angela apprehensively watched him go, and then as he raced inside and turned towards the platforms she saw him halt suddenly, his mouth open in obvious shock. Her heart lurched more stomach-churningly than before, and a rising panicky feeling made her tingly and jittery.

Jessie ran forward again abruptly, but not before Angela had seen his face break into a tremendous grin as he stretched both arms out as wide as they could go.

He does seem very pleased that Larry is coming back to Tall Trees to be with us all, thought Angela, the sickly feeling quickly dissolving and falling away.

It wasn’t long before the reason for the excitement of Connie and Jessie became clear.

Barbara and Ted had come all the way to Harrogate on a surprise visit to see the twins, and to catch up with Peggy and Holly too, of course. They had travelled up to Yorkshire from London on the train along with Larry.

Neither of the twins would remove their arms to let their parents go from their hugs, they were so excited to see them.

Barbara and Ted had spent a weekend with them at the end of January, as their train tickets had been funded for that journey by the government.

Understandably, since then it had felt a very long four months for the ten-year-olds to be without their mother and father, instead having to make do with letters, and – joy! – on Easter Sunday, even a telephone call made from the Jolly for Barbara and Ted to say they hoped that Mabel’s Easter Egg hunt of hand-decorated hard-boiled eggs hidden in the garden was going to be fun.

‘My, look how you two have grown!’ said Barbara now, as despite having a shopping basket hooked into her elbow, she managed to put an arm around both of her children to pull them close.

‘You’re nearly as tall as yer ma, both of yer!’ Ted added, standing close. He was naturally a more reserved person than Barbara, but the tremor in his voice gave away how happy he was to see his children, and then he allowed himself a gentle pat of hello on each of the twins’ shoulders, just so that they knew how deeply he cared for them.

Jessie and Connie were both too overcome to do anything more than grin at each of their parents with glee, as they both turned around to hug their father too, their eyes shining bright with the unexpected thrill of what had just happened.

Jessie, who was more observant than Connie, noticed a few wrinkles at the corners of Barbara’s eyes that had not been there before the war, and some white hairs glinting in Ted’s short hair. He thought too that both of his parents seemed a bit smaller and very slightly shabbier than they had before, but Jessie was wise enough to know that maybe he had grown a little and that these days nobody could buy new clothes for best as often as they had done previously, and so most people were making do and mending to preserve outfits and shoes for as long as possible.

Barbara and Ted felt just as overcome, although they were making a better fist of hiding their exuberant feelings. They really missed having their children at home, but Ted was convinced that the bombs would soon be falling on London and so Connie and Jessie were much less likely to come to physical harm, or worse (although that didn’t bear thinking about) if they stayed billeted in Harrogate. And although Barbara probably would have brought the children back to Bermondsey if it had been left up to her, she trusted Ted’s opinion and knew that he wouldn’t be so insistent if he didn’t really believe that Jubilee Street was going to be very vulnerable to aerial attack.

Angela had no option other than to wait for them all to walk back to her, while she sat marooned in her wheelchair on its wheels as she noticed how alike Peggy and Barbara were, and how Jessie favoured his father’s colouring.

Milburn’s lead rope was still hanging downwards but the pony hadn’t taken the opportunity to test her freedom and instead had edged over so that she was standing beside Angela, casting curious looks towards the new arrivals. Then the small mare shook her nose forwards and backward several times as if she rather approved of Ted looking strong and muscular in his Sunday-best suit and Barbara smart and pretty, with the sunshine highlighting her freshly pin-curled hair.

‘Blimey!’ yelled Larry, the second he spied the pony. And then a little more quietly but with an unmistakeable tone of wonder in his voice, ‘Blimey O’Reilly.’

Milburn looked as if she were pretty much thinking the same thing as Larry headed towards her.

‘Larry, language please,’ Barbara reprimanded.

She might as well have saved her breath as Larry looked around at his pals with a massive grin and then simply repeated ‘Blimey!’ again, although this time in the most excited tone of all, as if he were thinking of all sorts of things they could all get up to now that they looked as if they might have the cheeky-looking Milburn with them as a partner in crime.

Milburn’s mischievous glint in her eye seemed to say that yes, she agreed with Larry, and that they only had to say the word and she’d be ready and willing for all manner of fun and frolics over the summer. Whatever japes they could think of would be all right with her, yes sirree.

Larry appeared to everyone as if he had grown taller too, although his scrawnier frame, sunken cheeks, shadows smudged under his eyes and generally a more put-upon demeanour were a far cry from the bonny boy who had left them at Tall Trees earlier in the year.

As Tommy went to grab hold of the handles to push Angela’s chair, Aiden picked up Milburn’s rope, Ted divided everyone’s luggage between his two hands, and Larry seemed unable to take his eyes off Milburn. And then he said as if he hadn’t uttered anything a matter of seconds ago, ‘Wot the bloomin’ ’eck is that?’

‘It’s a pony, dimwit. A pony,’ said Tommy, laughing. ‘And when Father isn’t using her, she’s ours to do with what we want.’

‘Blimey. Blimey O’Reilly.’

‘Lang—’ said Barbara, and then gave a defeated smile. ‘Oh, what’s the point!’

Ted laughed and pulled Barbara close to him for a moment, and then they broke apart, eager to hear what the twins had been up to.

And with that, the odd mismatch of people trooped back to Tall Trees.

Mabel and Roger knew already that Barbara and Ted were coming to visit, although they hadn’t given as much as the tiniest hint about this to anybody else, even Peggy, as Barbara had telephoned the previous afternoon to say that she was terribly sorry for the short notice, but she wondered if it were all right if she and Ted could stay over for a day or two at Tall Trees.

Mabel told Barbara how wonderful it would be and that the twins, and Peggy, would be over the moon.

Then there had been the usual friendly argy-bargy between the women over the financial arrangements, with Barbara offering a payment and Mabel refusing, and Barbara insisting, and Mabel refusing, and so forth, after which Barbara had begged Mabel and Roger to keep their visit a surprise.

Mabel had agreed, but actually it proved to be a trickier thing to keep quiet about than she had expected.

For first thing that morning Mabel had almost been caught by Peggy carrying fresh sheets and clean towels across the back yard on her way to sort out the generously proportioned room above the stables that Peggy and Gracie had once shared and where Barbara and Ted would now be sleeping.

A quick-thinking Mabel had had to dart into the pantry to hide as Peggy then spent what felt to Mabel to be an inordinate age standing just on the other side of the pantry door in the kitchen getting herself and Holly ready to leave the house and head over to June Blenkinsop’s. At one point, Peggy even asked Holly if she should take June the bag of currants she had for her that were – naturally – in the pantry, causing Mabel’s heart to do a flip, and then a double-flip as if in answer.

Holly didn’t say anything in reply – well, that wasn’t surprising given her tender age – but she did let out a cheery gurgle.

At last Mabel was able to breathe an audible sigh of relief when Peggy decided that the dratted currants could wait for another day as June probably wouldn’t be doing any of this sort of baking on a Sunday as she’d be concentrating on getting large trays of cottage pies and Lancashire hotpots ready for the coming week. Finally Peggy got around to pushing the pram out through the back door and weaving it through the yard and onto the garden path to the road.

This was a huge relief because, try as she might, Mabel hadn’t been able to think of a convincing reason why she was hiding next to the large bowl of eggs from their hens at the bottom of the garden and a hessian sack of potatoes with its top rolled over so that the teddies were easy to get to. And Mabel knew that Peggy would almost definitely have smelt a rat of the Barbara-and-Ted-arriving variety if she had caught her sneaking about in the pantry with an armful of clean laundry and no plausible reason for doing so.

Now, as the others would all be making their way back from the station, Mabel only just had time to find Peggy a handful of clean hankies following the telephone call with Bill, and to make her cup of tea. She’d sneaked a surreptitious peek at a soggy and spent Peggy, and couldn’t decide if Barbara’s imminent arrival was a good or a bad thing. It could go either way, to judge by the look of her, Mabel thought.

Peggy remained closeted still in Roger’s study with a desolate expression on her face, staring with unfocused eyes into the distance, obviously dazed and emotionally exhausted after her unheralded display of temper following her highly wrought outburst.

Although Holly had been bawling, Mabel wasn’t sure that Peggy had even heard her daughter’s cries, as for the very first time her doting mother hadn’t raced across the corridor to attend to her, and this neglect had made Holly wail even more loudly.

Now, across the way in the kitchen and jollied along by Roger, Holly had finally ceased crying although she remained restless and a little snivelly, her eyelashes still wet with tears, following such a rude awakening from her nap caused by the clatter of things hitting the floor in the study.

Once the baby’s wails had abated, a too casual-seeming Roger replaced Holly back in her sleeping drawer and then quickly made himself scarce, leaving Mabel to pick the baby up again when Holly started to grizzle, as she did almost immediately.

Mabel had no choice other than to walk around the kitchen, jiggling Holly in her arms as she showed her what was in the kitchen cabinets, and the eggs and potatoes in the pantry, in an effort to prevent her from returning to her full-blown wailing of a few minutes earlier.

Holly was surprisingly heavy for such a little thing and she obviously wasn’t very convinced that what was in the various cupboards was very much for Mabel to boast about, and so Mabel was relieved to hear the sound of those returning to Tall Trees heading across the back yard.

The baby immediately stopped grumbling, at last fully engaged in her surroundings, and quickly swung her head with interest towards the door from the back yard into the kitchen to see who might be about to come in.

Mabel could hear Aiden pulling the bolt to the stable door across and then encouraging Milburn inside as he told Larry where the hay and straw was, and she saw Tommy push Angela’s chair to the back door. Mabel noticed the Ross family huddled together as they gave Tommy room to help Angela inside.

For a moment Mabel wondered at Ted Ross allowing Tommy to push Angela what looked like all the way back from the station to judge by Tommy’s pink face, but then she thought that actually for Tommy to have a bit of responsibility and to do something for somebody else wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, the episode to do with his bullying and the orchard affair being still rather a raw memory for all the Braithwaites, although the other children never seemed to refer to it.

Barbara bustled into the kitchen, which was smelling deliciously of the barm cakes baking for their dinner and Barbara could see what looked like a giant mixing bowl with bread dough proving on a warm part of the range.

Connie and Jessie stayed out in the yard in order to tug Ted, once he had set all the luggage down, good-naturedly across the yard and over to see for himself where Milburn was housed. Barbara undid her headscarf with one hand as with the other she plonked the wicker basket full of small thank-you gifts for Mabel – some homemade biscuits, a couple of new tea towels, a vest for Tommy and some hankies, several pork chops, some juicy-looking carrots and a very late dark-green Savoy cabbage that the caterpillars had only had the merest chomp on the outside leaves of – down on the rather battered kitchen table that had obviously seen many years of faithful service.

She and Mabel smiled in greeting at one another, and then Barbara raised her eyebrows in a quiet query as to where her sister Peggy might be.

Mabel put a finger in front of her mouth to signal silence, and then with Holly still in her arms she edged over to her guest and then stage-whispered in Barbara’s ear, ‘She’ll be jiggered, Barbara. There’s jus’ been an awful ding-dong on the telephone not more than twenty or so minutes ago betwixt her an’ Bill. She’s ’avin’ a quiet moment jus’ at present in t’ study wi’ a cup o’ tea to set ’erself to rights, but there no denyin’ it were right bad. She’ll be glad yer ’ere.’

‘Oh my goodness!’ Barbara hissed quietly back. ‘That’s unlike them. Poor Peggy… I can guess what he’s done, I suppose.’

Mabel said she hadn’t asked Peggy what the row was about, but she thought she’d heard Peggy moan the name Maureen as she had sobbed in her arms in the aftermath of the argument.

Then the two women shook their head at the thought of what was happening to a lot of couples during their enforced separations. Many relationships were suffering badly, and both of them were pretty sure that Peggy wouldn’t be the only woman in the land who had just had a big barney with her husband over another woman, while many men away from home drove themselves to distraction with dark thoughts of what their wives might be getting up to back on the home front without them. It wasn’t an ideal situation, no matter how one tried to look at it.

Barbara then saw that Holly was looking curiously towards her aunty and waving an arm in her direction, opening and closing her fingers, and so Barbara whispered to Mabel, ‘May I?’

With a rather relieved smile Mabel promptly handed her over, and after deeply inhaling the familiar scent of the young baby and then gently touching Holly on the head with her lips in a feather-light caress of hello, Barbara clutched her affectionately to her chest and went to find her sister.

She was taken aback a moment later to see how large and black the pupils in Peggy’s eyes appeared, and how pale her face was.

Peggy was totally still as she gazed with unseeing eyes out of the study window and down towards the hen coops on the far side of the garden, with the undrunk cup of tea by her elbow, and she didn’t notice that it was her sister who had come into the study.

It was only when Barbara said gently, ‘Peggy, my darling, whatever’s happened?’ that Peggy turned to face her.

For an instant Peggy’s brown eyebrows wrinkled in incomprehension and she looked confused as she gazed at Barbara.

And then she simply flung herself at her sister, leaving Barbara only a moment to move Holly out of the way. As Peggy broke once more into sobs, Barbara was able to feel hot tears on her neck as Peggy held her close in a vice-like grip. Barbara stood still as a rock and pulled her sister close.

The sisters didn’t say anything for a while, as Peggy was too upset to speak, and Barbara thought it best that this new wave of emotion be allowed to crest and then die of its own accord.

After a while Barbara contented herself with repeating ‘Sssssh, there now, there now. Sssssh, there now’ in the same way that she had comforted Jessie and Connie when they were colicky as babies.

Holly made some adorable snuffling noises and reached pudgy fingers towards her mother’s hair, but Peggy didn’t look at her and so Holly turned towards Barbara with a puzzled expression, causing Barbara to give her a jiggle of acknowledgement with her other arm and a smile, as she knew the baby would be feeling unsettled at these unfamiliar goings-on and the strange sounds coming from her mother.

When Peggy’s grip on her sister had reduced to less of a stranglehold, Barbara said, ‘Peggy, dear, we’ll have a long talk very soon, I promise. I want to hear all about it, really I do. But first why don’t you have a lie down and have a little rest? Take Holly up with you as to me she’s looking as if she still needs a bit more of a doze after her lunch, and then I’ll come and find you when I’ve got everyone else sorted and have caught up with Connie and Jessie. How does that sound, dear?’

Tiredly, Peggy untangled herself and then nodded a damp and exhausted smile of agreement, before she quietly slipped upstairs with her daughter cleaved tightly to her bosom. She felt done in, and now she could hear Connie and Jessie’s happy voices outside, she wanted to make sure that her tear-marked face wouldn’t dampen the party mood that was sweeping the rest of Tall Trees with Larry being back with them, and the pleasure of the unexpected visit from Barbara and Ted.

With a concerned expression, Barbara watched the sway of her sister’s disappearing world-weary steps with a tremendous pang of sympathy and trepidation, and then she sighed in empathy before she consciously made herself look happy as she turned to retrace her steps outside and find her husband and the twins.

Chapter Seven

Ted was full of surprises, it seemed.

‘Mother, you’ll never believe it,’ squeaked Connie breathily, her cheeks red with excitement as her mother joined her family. ‘But Father can drive a trap! And he’s going to teach us. He knows all about ponies, and he’s going to teach us everything!’

‘Oh, he can drive a trap, can he?’ Barbara raised an amused eyebrow in the direction of her husband, who winked in response. This was news to her, as was Connie’s use of the formal-sounding ‘mother’, but she supposed this was a sign of Connie getting older as perhaps ‘mama’ or ‘mummy’ seemed babyish, especially in front of the other children.

Ted grinned back at Barbara, causing her to shoot him a rueful, only half-amused grin in return. He’d never mentioned to his wife that as a child he had helped out at the local coal merchants, so much so that by the age of ten he had been allowed, after much begging, to take the reins on the delivery cart whenever he wasn’t at school.

Barbara prided herself on knowing all there was to know about Ted, and to learn this news so hot on the heels of discovering that something dire had happened with Bill that Peggy had had no idea about and therefore had been unprepared for, she felt now slightly peculiar and wrong-footed by Ted’s admission, harmless though it was.

The children were mightily impressed with Ted’s insouciant wink, however, to the extent that they were all pulling a variety of comical faces as they tried to outdo each other in the winking stakes, with Tommy and Larry trying the hardest, but Tommy getting the eventual thumbs-up from the others for a particularly showy double wink at the same time tipping his forefinger to his brow.

‘Okay, you lot,’ Barbara interrupted their fun, ‘let’s go in for some food as I believe Mabel is setting the table and has the kettle on, and then we’ll see if Roger minds Ted taking you all out later in the trap.’ Barbara sounded quite firm as she looked around at the children and pulled her best delicately scalloped beige cardigan together over her chest as if she meant business.

As one, Ted and the children all looked a bit crestfallen as they had clearly wanted to go out in the trap right away, but then they realised that Barbara wasn’t saying a firm no as such, but just that Roger had to give his seal of approval first.

Tommy summed up their thoughts with, ‘Let’s go in an’ see Pa – ’e’s always ready for ’is dinner, and I’ll bet ’e’ll like a bit of teachin’ too ’ow t’ ’andle t’ trap proper.’

And indeed when Roger learned that Ted had some experience with horses and would be very happy to spend a bit of time showing them what to do with Milburn, there was an unmistakable sigh of relief bubbling up from below his white dog collar. He’d not yet tried to go out in the trap on his own, not least as he wasn’t sure he could quite remember how to put the harness on Milburn or how to attach the trap to all the harness gubbins, although these were admissions that he didn’t particularly care to make in front of all the children.

Dinner was eaten hastily, with no one mentioning anything about Peggy and Holly not being there, most probably because it was only Barbara and Ted who noticed, and they contented themselves with acknowledging the absence of the two Delberts with the exchange of silent but nonetheless telling looks.

There was a scrag end of mutton stew Peggy had prepared the evening before, that was surprisingly tasty as she was picking up some good tips for flavoursome food over at June Blenkinsop’s, and Mabel had eked it out to make sure there was enough as of course she couldn’t say to Peggy that her sister and Ted would be joining them, seeing as this was a surprise. It was served along with fluffy dumplings and the unexpected gift of the Savoy cabbage to go with the runner beans that Roger was very proud he’d grown.

Once everyone had wiped their plates clean with a still-warm barm cake and sat back replete, Barbara announced that she wasn’t going to partake of the pony and trap session, which made the twins put on deliberately dejected faces in an attempt to get their mother to change her mind. But Barbara held firm, although she tried to sweeten the pill by saying that for this meal, as a special treat, the children could be let off their table-clearing and washing-up duties as she would put the kitchen to rights and everyone else could go out into the yard to practise tacking up Milburn. ‘Go on, out you scoot, and leave me to it,’ she said, waving a tea towel around as if to scurry them outside.

‘Please come and watch Daddy with us,’ said Jessie. Barbara noticed the ‘daddy’.

‘Oh, we so wanted to show you Milburn,’ Connie wheedled.

Barbara wavered for a moment but then she thought of Peggy, and held firm, their pleas being to no avail.

‘I’ve seen her and she’s a very eye-catching pony, right enough, and I’ll be there tomorrow when no doubt you will want to repeat it all again. I’m sure Milburn won’t mind if I watch you then. And I promise that tomorrow I will even let you drive me along in the trap, if it’s still sunny and Ted thinks you know what you’re doing,’ said Barbara. ‘But right now, there is something else that I really need to see to instead, and so you all vamoose.’

The children knew that Barbara never reneged on a promise and so they decided to make the best of it as it was really good to have Ted there to spend some time with. Mabel stepped in to ease the moment further with a vigorous call of ‘last one out there’s a sissy’ ringing in their ears as she bolted out of the back door before the children, with Roger hot on her heels. The children all scampered off happily enough to watch, along with Milburn’s quizzical expression, Ted untangle the harness as he muttered that they must hang it up properly when not being used, and not leave it in a heap like they had as to do so was to risk the leather perishing, before reminding them how it should be put on the pony.

When she had sorted out the kitchen to her satisfaction, which was a much tidier and cleaner satisfaction than Mabel, or even Peggy, would have deemed acceptable, Barbara made a fresh pot of tea that she placed on a doily-covered tray along with two cups and a small jug of milk. She put a couple of plain biscuits that Gracie had made on a side plate and popped that on the tray too.

As Barbara carried the tray out of the kitchen she could hear her twins laughing out in the yard as Roger attempted but failed to get Milburn to open her mouth so that he could put the bridle on. The familiar sound of them enjoying themselves brought a rush of happiness to Barbara’s chest.

Barbara climbed the stairs right to the top of the house and tapped on Peggy’s door, and was greeted with a husky ‘come in’.

Holly was sound asleep in a large but battered crib that looked as if it had had the pleasure of nursing many children from babyhood through to them being ready for a ‘big’ bed.

Looking distinctly bleary, a blinking Peggy watched her sister put the tray on top of a chest of drawers, and then a bit reluctantly it seemed, she pulled herself up to sitting position and gratefully accepted the cup of tea that Barbara poured for her.

Barbara tried not to look too obviously at the darkly shadowed puffy bags under Peggy’s eyes, or her dry and cracked lips, her rumpled cotton summer dress that was hanging too loosely on her slender frame, or the constant twitching of a muscle in one of her eyelids that was punching out a tiny SOS of distress. Peggy did look a mess and a wretched sight but her sister thought it kinder not to say.

‘Peggy dear, I’m so very sorry to hear that you’ve been through the wars today,’ said Barbara sympathetically in the sort of voice that she knew her sister would take as an invitation to talk about what had caused such a ringing disagreement between husband and wife. She perched on the edge of the bed with her own cup of tea in her hand as she looked towards Peggy with her eyebrows raised in encouragement.

‘It was horrible, just horrible,’ said Peggy, as she stared without focusing at Barbara’s face before turning to look mournfully down at the tea softly swirling in her cup.

‘Another woman?’ Barbara said softly. What else could it be, she thought, to cause such a maelstrom of emotion in the normally so level-headed Peggy.

‘Another woman,’ her sister agreed morosely.

Barbara wasn’t sure what to say. She’d always found Bill to be pleasant enough company although, try as she might (and she had tried very hard over the years), she had never believed him to be quite good enough for her sister.

Once or twice Barbara had thought Bill had looked as if he’d had a roving eye, and just before he and Peggy had married all those years previously, bolstered by two port and lemons one Saturday night at the Jolly, Barbara had even been so bold as to say outright to him, ‘I do very much hope you’re going to be true to Peggy, Bill; she deserves the best, and she absolutely doesn’t need some dog of a husband who’s going to be hard to keep on the doorstep.’

Bill had replied in such an earnest voice that Barbara found herself somewhat mollified, saying that he knew he wasn’t worthy of someone such as Peggy, but if she would deign to marry him then he’d never so much as even look at another woman or do anything at all in Christendom to make her unhappy, God strike him down dead if ever he did.

Thinking about it later, Barbara hadn’t quite been placated but she had allowed the matter to lie, and over the ensuing years a lot of time had passed without any obvious shenanigans on Bill’s behalf and so gradually she had done her level best to think well of him.

Then, when Bill and Peggy hadn’t easily been able to have their own children, Barbara had started wondering about him again, fuelled at this point by Ted telling her that there had been the odd rumour heard in the Jolly about Bill and a fancy-woman flying around the docks.

Still, Peggy and Bill had seemed to weather that particular storm, helped no doubt by the announcement of Peggy’s unexpected pregnancy with Holly after ten barren years of marriage. And at the time Barbara was pleased that she had kept quiet, at Ted’s advising, over Bill’s reported peccadillo. She thought he might have well overstepped the mark once or twice although not necessarily in a really serious manner, and therefore she hadn’t want to upset Peggy with no firm evidence to back up the allegations. And once the pregnancy had been announced Peggy had seemed so full of happiness that it would have been a desperate shame to ruin her unadulterated joy, and although Barbara had scrutinised Bill carefully, he never gave so much as a hint that he wasn’t just as thoroughly delighted that he and Peggy were going to be parents.

However, this time around, Barbara thought now, the cat seemed to have been well and truly set amongst the pigeons.

‘Why don’t you get it all off your chest, Peggy? I’m sure you’ll feel better if you do,’ Barbara cajoled. She still had no idea precisely what it was that Bill had done, and she was keen to know more.

‘I feel a fool, Barbara, such a total fool. While I’ve been stuck up here, away from you and Ted, and far from home and all that I know, looking after our dear Holly and washing and feeding her, and bringing in some money working at June Blenkinsop’s, and trying to do the right thing by your two as well, and never suspecting a thing about what Bill might be up to, he’s clearly been living the life of Riley.’ Peggy’s sentences jumbled into one another, but she didn’t seem to care although Barbara wished she’d get to the point. Then Peggy sighed dramatically and took a sip of her tea, before adding with a sarcastic tinge to her words, ‘She’s called Maureen, and she was working in the NAAFI, he told me. And he’s been seeing her since November, although apparently he wanted to end it at Christmas, although somehow he never did. And now she’s having his baby, and only has three months to go.’

Peggy swallowed, making a strange swigging noise in her throat that caused her to pause what she was saying, and despondently she looked down at her cup and saucer once more. Barbara rubbed Peggy’s arm that was closest to her in sisterly support, expecting a fresh outburst of sobs.

The forthcoming baby would be the clincher that Bill had passed a point of no return as far as her sister was concerned, Barbara knew.

Peggy remained dry-eyed to her sister’s surprise, although her voice was quieter when she was able to continue, ‘Barbara, I’m ashamed to say I more or less told him to go to hell, and then I said to him that he’d never see Holly again.’

‘Of course that was what you said at this news, Peggy! Any woman would have told him that. I would have, make no mistake, and then probably gone a whole lot further as well.’

‘But who’s going to suffer, Barbara? Not Bill, as he’ll be back in MaureenFromTheNAAFI’s bed quicker than a rat can get up a drainpipe, I’ve no doubt, as he’s not the sort to stay on his own if he can help it, and I’m pretty certainly he’ll have found a way to sneak off camp to be with her whenever he can. She’s obviously keen on him, and so his nest is already feathered, even if it doesn’t feel like that to him just at the minute. And I’ll get over him – I’ll make sure of that as otherwise I’ll let his actions punish me every day and I refuse to do that. Obviously my heart feels shattered to smithereens, and I despise him for what he has done to me and Holly. But the thought we meant so little to him will help, and so I think if ever I waver I’ll remember how little he cared about us and so I’ll hold firm,’ said Peggy.

‘No, it’s little Holly who’ll pay the price, don’t you think?’ she went on. ‘The poor little mite is going to grow up knowing that while many brave and honest men will die in this war, a louse like her father is very probably going to come through it unscathed and end up living with some other family that he’ll have had after her, and with him completely forgetting that he already has a daughter. I’m old-fashioned as I do think a child needs both parents, but it’s not going to be the case for Holly as he’s a canker that needs to be removed from our lives, and so the poor dear thing will never know what it’s like to be loved and cherished by her very own father. That breaks my heart more than anything Bill Delbert could ever do to me, I’ll tell you that for nothing, Barbara.’

Now the tears arrived, and in torrents.

Her sister shuffled a little further up the bed and put both her arms around Peggy, who leant her head down and sobbed so violently against her that Barbara felt the bounce of her sister’s head against her breastbone. ‘It’s not fair, Peggy, you’re quite right. It’s not fair. But you will be able to give Holly enough love for two parents, I know you will, and with you by her side she couldn’t ask for better,’ Barbara said as reassuringly as she could. ‘And Ted and I, and Connie and Jessie, will never be far away, you know.’

After a while the sisters drew apart to stare dolefully at one another, and then in perfect unison they turned to look over at the old crib holding the peacefully sleeping baby girl who looked as if the only care in the world that she had right at that minute was whether to nap with her white knitted bootees on or off.

Chapter Eight

Milburn had a distinctly put-upon expression on her long face by the time Roger had been fully tutored by Ted in the proper way of putting her harness on and then how to connect the trap to the harness.

The children tried to help Roger by exuberantly calling out instructions (many right, but some unintentionally wrong), but this only further confused him, especially when Mabel tried to say what she thought he should do too, with the result that he kept getting in a pickle, and inevitably would do the various leather straps up either too loosely, too tightly, or in the wrong way. And once Roger had finally got the harness on, only a bit askew, he then had difficulty in backing Milburn into the trap’s traces as he kept walking her backwards as if around a corner rather than keeping her moving in a straight line.

But Ted was very patient, as was Milburn, and suddenly the penny dropped, much to everyone’s delight, and Milburn wrinkled her velvety nostrils with what looked like relief.

Understandably, the children had started to become bored while Roger fiddled about and so they had started to do things like trying to push each other in the back of the knees, so that – if the timing were right – the unlucky recipient would be plunged forward and, if the timing was perfect, right down to the ground. As the boys were wearing short trousers and Connie a cotton summer dress Gracie had adapted for her from one of her own, it was likely that there’d be an array of bruises on the back of their legs that the children would be able to compare next morning.

‘Oi! Watch it!’ Ted had to be firm that that sort of behaviour was never to go on around Milburn, as it was the sort of thing that could lead to the pony getting unintentionally spooked and then somebody ending up hurt, he explained.

‘We didn’t mean anything,’ said Jessie.

‘I know, son, I know,’ Ted replied, ‘but none of you are used to big animals an’ yet yer ’ave to do their thinking for ‘em.’

Connie and Jessie looked at their friends with frowns, each twin seeming to forget that they had been happy to try to sneak up behind their pals to do likewise only a mere matter of moments ago. But their unhappy expressions reminded the others that their father hadn’t been in Harrogate long, and already he was having to lay down the law, which risked spoiling a nice day, and so for a little while all the children felt suitably chastened.

‘I’m sorry, Daddy.’ Connie sounded so contrite and in fact her saying she regretted anything was so out of the ordinary that Aiden immediately apologised too and then went and stood by Connie to show solidarity with her.

On the final run-through Roger managed to do it all very adequately with – best of all – no reminders from any of those watching him. And so it was then that with a smile, he stepped well away from Milburn to take a theatrically low bow, with one hand behind his back and the other swooping extravagantly towards the ground as he made a flurry of quickly delivered feathered waving gestures as if he were a nobleman bowing to his queen, and he was rewarded by an enthusiastic round of applause from his audience. Even Milburn tossed her head up and down, and whiffled her whiskers, as if she were agreeing with everyone that Roger had achieved a success of heroic proportions.

Ted asked Jessie to take hold of Milburn’s bridle just above the bit to keep her steady while he and Roger climbed up into the trap and took their seats on the driving bench. The ever-sensible Aiden passed up the whip to Ted, taking care to wrap the rope bit of it around the whippy bit and to move slowly in order not to startle the pony, as he’d been instructed.

‘I’ll drive Milburn round the block to see ’ow she goes, an’ then you take over, Roger,’ said Ted, and then he looked towards the children. ‘An’ you lot, you can walk wi’ us if yer likes, but keep jus’ behind us, out of ’arm’s way, an’ no messin’ about or shoutin’, mind. We don’t know whether she’ll spook easy an’ so let’s not ask fer trouble.’

Milburn lifted a front leg and stamped it down as she champed on her bit and tugged at the reins, clearly eager to be on her way.

With that, Ted neatly manoeuvred the pony through the yard and out onto the road, with Aiden and Jessie paying especially close attention to exactly how he managed to do this. They wanted to be doing it themselves before too long, and if they could grasp the technicalities before the other children, then so much the better. Larry and Connie followed, but Tommy stayed behind with Angela, offering to change the pony’s water and clean out her stall ready for when she came back.

Roger said a distracted ‘thank you’ to his son for thinking ahead and sorting Milburn’s stable, then immediately found himself gazing benevolently around as he sat beside Ted, before he turned back to smile at the children and give them a quick salute, looking as if he was enjoying the sun on his back on this lovely balmy day. Then, much to the twins’ amusement, Roger obviously remembered that he should be watching Ted more closely and so he tried to concentrate on what Ted was saying with a suitably attentive face.

After a while, Ted said ‘giddy up’ and gently touched Milburn with the whip on the flat of her broad back, and she broke into a smart trot. Ten minutes later the children were red-faced with the effort of racing along just behind the trap.

Next, Milburn was slowed down to an amble, before being made to walk out briskly, then to trot again, and turn left and right, and pull up from a trot to a dead halt, all of which she did as if she were an old hand. Finally Ted took her to a busier road, where there was some traffic moving along, to see what she was like near cars (not that there were very many as petrol rationing was biting), and buses and larger vehicles.

The game little chestnut did everything she was asked to do with the minimum amount of fuss, and she didn’t flinch or even flick an ear in the direction of the traffic. Ted said ‘good girl’ several times in appreciation, getting a twist of her ears in reply to him.

Back at Tall Trees, Ted halted her with a ‘whoa!’ and the application of a gentle pressure on her mouth, and then he handed the leather reins across to Roger, who took the gathered loops up cautiously and held them in the way Ted instructed, although he said he hadn’t enough hands just at the moment to cope with the whip as well, and so Ted said he’d hang on to that and that he really didn’t think Milburn needed it as she seemed to be very willing.

‘You need to make her think you know what you’re doin’, and then she’ll do what you want. She’s got a bit of spirit but she’s a nice pony, an’ you’ll ’ave the ’ang of ’er in no time,’ Ted promised.

Roger hoped that would indeed be the case, and then he clicked his tongue against his teeth in the way he had seen Ted do, and rather to his surprise Milburn began to walk forward on this command as if he were an old hand too in the pony-driving stakes.

Mabel had come out to see them off and she held up her hands in silent applause, and Roger couldn’t resist a little smirk in her direction, at which Mabel gave a dismissive downward wave of her hand, with a jolly call of ‘Gi’ over, Roger!’

This time they were out for quite a while longer, during which time Roger picked up the rudiments of driving the trap quite quickly, mastering the firm tones needed for the hups, walk-ons, giddy-ups and whoas much more easily than he or anyone else had expected, indeed so much so that the children quickly became bored again as there was a lot of walking, trotting, turning and stopping, and categorically no drama at all. Then Ted announced that it was getting on and Milburn had probably had almost enough, although they were going to give her a step out into the country before they brought her back to Tall Trees, and so while Ted didn’t mind giving each of the children a turn at driving the trap tomorrow, what he could say was that it wasn’t going to happen today and that the children should probably make their way home without them, to see what Tommy and Angela were up to.

It had been brewing for a while, but at this confirmation of nothing in it for them any longer, the children soon lost the last remnants of interest and, challenged by Larry to a race, they peeled off to gallop home as quickly as they could without even the tiniest moan of disappointment.

It was a much happier-looking Roger who drove the trap back into the yard half an hour later, and then untacked and sponged down a now sweaty Milburn, before popping her back in the neatly mucked-out stall that Tommy had got ready, all executed without a hitch.

He and Ted stood back to watch her drink, and then nodded at each other in the way that men sometimes do when they feel a job has been well done.

When Roger and Ted went into the kitchen it was to find Mabel, Peggy and Barbara all looking engrossed as they leant over the kitchen table.

Peggy got up to give Ted a hug, and he tried not to show his shock at the sight of her blotchy face and her bloodshot eyes peeping at him from underneath their swollen lids.

Peggy gave Ted a weak half-smile and then turned again to the kitchen table, which was covered with a swathe of white cotton fabric delicately sprigged with red, pink and blue summer flowers, and soon the women had their heads bent close together once more as they tried to pin the fabric to a pattern for a summer dress for Connie and eke out in the spaces around this enough material for a summer blouse for Peggy. It was like they were doing a very complicated jigsaw puzzle.

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