Angus was busy ministering to their every need, listening to their stories, copying their lingo. Angus was useful and content, despite his disability. At his insistence Hester had framed his discharge certificate to prove he was no malingerer. Perhaps on one of his bad days, they might unfortunately see for themselves what ailed him and that he was in no fit state to take command. But so far his health was excellent. The arrival of the men had taken Hester’s mind from Guy’s sudden departure. They had exchanged words over the Bartley girl but for some reason he didn’t dismiss her usual objections. ‘I expect you’re right, Mother, as usual. Perhaps we’re not suited. Perhaps she is too young, but just cut it out,’ he’d barked. He’d never used slang before and he had been downright rude, turning his back on her when she expressed her disappointment that he’d not turned up when Daphne brought over her lovely nieces, Clarice and Marianne, to play tennis. Now he was back and for once his letters were more cheery, as if he was glad to return to the thick of it.
