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shoulder into the kitchen, at his father, his uncle and aunt. ‘When’re Bet and Mum back, Dad? Can we go now? We’ll be back for tea.’
    ‘Aye, lad, hop it, and leave a few in the stream.’ Tom was smiling, his shoulders relaxing slowly beneath Annie’s hand.
    Sarah still stood there. ‘What camps though?’
    Davy jerked her round. ‘Don’t be daft, camps are the things Scouts have.’
    Sarah looked back into the kitchen. ‘Scouts with toggles you mean, wobbling about? Did you have a toggle, Mum?’
    Rob came up behind Davy now. ‘No, only boys have toggles, don’t you know anything?’
    Annie laughed but the men were quiet. ‘Now that’s enough from you, Rob Ryan. Get yourselves off to the beck and no falling in.’
    She watched them as they left. Tom’s hand was still on hers. She clasped it, then went towards the door. ‘We didn’t tell them we would be living here.’
    ‘Keep that until later. Don’t think there’ll be any complaints from anyone, do you?’ Tom was smiling now, but then he dropped his head, picking at the grain of the deal table. ‘Talk her out of it, Georgie, for God’s sake, man.’
    Annie stood with her back to the room, looking out at Black Beauty’s stable, remembering the snuffles which used to greet her when she opened the door. There was only the sound of the back alley now, the clanking of tubs, then the sound of Georgie’s voice.
    ‘We’ve discussed it as much as we’re going to, Tom lad. But I’ve a few things to do. Come on, she’s said we’re partners so let’s get on with it.’
    She heard him move towards her, sensed him stop and then felt his lips on the back of her neck. ‘We’ll be backsoon,’ he murmured, slipping past her with Tom, taking his cap from his jacket pocket.
    ‘Have a beer for me then,’ she called and Tom grimaced.
    ‘You’re a bloody mindreader, woman. Bad as Ma Gillow and her tea leaves, but Ma was prettier.’ He ducked as she grabbed a tea towel and threw it at them. Georgie caught it, flicked it up on to Bet’s washing line and walked out with that crispness to his walk again.
    When Bet arrived ten minutes later she argued and so did Grace when they heard of her plans but Bet, in the end, rang Matron, a friend of hers from the WI.
    ‘You can go straight there,’ she said to Annie, coming back into the room. ‘But I wish you wouldn’t, bonny lass, and I can’t believe your Georgie agreed.’
    Annie brushed her hair, smoothed her skirt, kissed Bet and pretended she hadn’t seen the look her stepmother exchanged with Gracie. ‘He did you know.’
    The walk through Wassingham was hot and the climb up the hill to the posh end was hotter still. Her hands were sweaty but not slimy as they had been in India when the darkness in her head had gathered. She touched the palm with her finger. Yes, definitely only sweaty.
    She could see the small hospital in the distance. She looked to the right, at the grand stone houses which lined the streets in this part of Wassingham. This is where she had spent the first three years of her life, before her mother’s death.
    Annie stopped now, drew a deep breath, then another. The hospital was closer. It was where her mother had died. She ran her hand along the picket fence where once there had been wrought-iron railings.
    ‘Gone for the war,’ she murmured, running her hand along the newly painted wood. Poor Mam. Poor Da.
    Matron’s house was built of stone too, but much smaller than her da’s had been. She stopped to smell the Peace roses which lined the garden. They had greenfly, she began to wipe them off but then the door opened.
    ‘Annie Manon, or I should say Armstrong.’ A smallstooped elderly woman came out on to the grass holding out her hand.
    Annie looked at the greenfly smeared on her own, wiped her hand quickly, and looked down into piercing blue eyes which held laughter and smiled herself as she shook the proffered hand.
    ‘Well my dear, that’s one way of dealing with