‘You were right, she does live in Bletchley. Her name is Mrs Constance Tranter and she is a widow. She has agreed to take you in.’‘What about Charlie?’ They were talking in the Bennett’s front room. June was busy pouring out tea for them.‘We have no information about him, I’m afraid, but if we hear anything we’ll let you know straight away.’ She paused. ‘I think that after all this time we will have to assume he perished.’She didn’t want to hear that, however true it might be. ‘When am I to go?’‘As soon as you are ready.’‘I’m ready now. It isn’t as if I’ve got much to pack.’ She had never been used to much in the way of possessions but even so her wardrobe was meagre by any standards. Besides the clothes she was wearing she had a wool skirt, two blouses, a cardigan, two pairs of pyjamas, some underwear, socks and stockings, a pair of slippers and toiletries, all donated, none of it new. There was also a rucksack to put them all in. With the money she earned she had bought a second-hand dress, an overcoat, a scarf and a pair of gloves.
