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It was inevitable that Beth would willingly take Rose up on her offer of a job and home.

Nothing had ever felt more right. She really liked Rose, her house was lovely, and Rose had impressed on her that it was an open-ended arrangement, so if she decided to go back to Ireland, or anywhere else for that matter, she could leave with no hard feelings.

But perhaps the main reason Beth wanted to work for Rose was because she felt the same way about her as she had for Ruth. Some things she felt were meant to be, and this was one of them.

Rachel gave Beth a warm hug as she was about to leave Down House to work for Rose Cullen.

‘I wish you every happiness,’ she said, her voice cracking with emotion.

‘I’ve loved having you here. But I hope you’ll pop in from time to time to tell me how things are with Mrs Cullen and with your young man.

And don’t forget, I can find room for him if he needs it when he gets some leave. ’

Beth was surprised that such a reserved woman could show such affection. ‘I’m going to miss you too, Rachel, I’ve loved staying here, and you’ve been so very kind,’ Beth said, struggling not to cry.

All her life she’d wanted someone to say they liked her, cared about her, and believed in her, and it took two guest-house landladies to make her see she did have something in her worth loving.

As she walked away with her suitcase, it occurred to Beth that maybe Bristol was where she belonged.

The day before she had telephoned Mr Boyle in Waterford to tell him her new address and that she’d be caring for an elderly lady.

She didn’t want to say it was a real job.

Something told her the less personal information she gave people in Ireland the better.

But she asked if everything was well at Clancy’s Cottage, and if Kathleen was still happy to look after it.

‘All just grand here,’ he replied. ‘The Mackillicks have only been there a couple of days, but they are loving it there. Some of their friends are after wanting to come straight after they leave. That’s three weeks, and someone else I know, a couple from Liverpool, they’d like two weeks while their roof is mended. It got damaged in an air raid.’

Beth couldn’t help but smile at the good news; it made her feel less guilty about leaving the cottage. ‘And Kathleen?’

Mr Boyle assured her that Kathleen loved looking after it, but said she missed her chats with Beth.

‘Tell her I miss her too. Now, I want you to put up the rent a bit,’ she said.

‘You can keep the extra. I can’t expect you to do it for nothing.

’ Rose had said she was sure the solicitor had already added his fee, as she’d never known a solicitor do any work for nothing, but Beth thought it needed to be clarified.

‘To be sure, that’s not necessary,’ he said, but there was a smile in his voice. ‘But I appreciate the thought.’

‘I shall have to come back in October or early November to get my warmer clothes, and we should meet up then for a chat. In reality I can’t see me coming back permanently for some time, and I wanted to ask your advice about selling the cottage.’

‘Well, dearie me,’ he said, sounding shocked. ‘After Miranda left it to you?’

‘I know, I feel bad about that, but obviously it hasn’t worked out as I hoped, and I can’t expect you and Kathleen to look after it for ever. I’m not talking about selling right now, I need your advice about that. But if I do decide to do it, would you handle the sale for me?’

‘To be sure,’ he said. ‘But best to wait till the Emergency is over. Families will want holidays when their men come home, and when your young man returns, he might want to marry you and settle here?’

‘That’s a lovely thought,’ she said, keeping her tone light. ‘But none of us know what this war has in store for us. Like you said, wait till the Emergency is over. If the Germans invade England I might be on the first boat back to my cottage.’

Beth felt satisfied she’d left the solicitor with a clear idea of what she wanted, and was delighted he had other guests lined up. That left her free to be a good and reliable housekeeper for Rose.

She suspected Rose only wanted a companion, not a housekeeper; at their last meeting she’d talked about cooking, and it was clear she liked to do that herself. So that left laundry, cleaning and gardening for Beth to do.

Rose had insisted on paying Beth ￡3 a month, which seemed far too much considering she was living in. Mrs Bradley had paid her just ￡2 a month and she’d done everything there. But Rose would not budge on this; she said she believed in paying people properly.

A new job and home were exciting enough to chase any dark thoughts away, but she was worried about Jack.

His letters were few and far between, and although he tried to be cheerful and amusing in them, she could sense underlying exhaustion, anxiety and fear.

The newspapers were not as upbeat as they had been at the start of the war.

Although the British had successfully landed in Sicily, progress was slow going.

She couldn’t help wondering how servicemen would adjust to civilian life when the war ended.

It was difficult to imagine how any man who had killed, or seen his companions die in battle, could possibly settle down with a wife and children and go back to an ordinary job.

She did have a memory from early childhood of strange men in Whitechapel who shouted and sometimes hid in alleys or behind market stalls, crying like children.

She remembered being told they had shell shock.

She got the idea they’d been frightened by something in a shell, but couldn’t imagine any shell being big enough to scare anyone.

It was Ruth who explained the true meaning, and that it was unfair nothing was done for these poor men who had often fought bravely in the Great War.

She hoped and prayed Jack wouldn’t come back like that.

Just a week after moving into Lamb Lane, she and Rose were having breakfast with the doors onto the garden wide open as it was already very warm at eight in the morning.

‘I am enjoying having you here so much,’ Rose said suddenly as she poured them both another cup of tea. ‘I used to feel the days were so long before you came, but now the time flies by.’

Beth smiled. ‘I found that in Ireland, and wished I had work to go to. But this isn’t like a real job, more like having a little holiday with a lovely aunt,’ she said.

She was speaking from the heart. Each day revealed something new about this remarkable, lovable woman, whether that was a walk to admire the Clifton Suspension Bridge or taking Beth to Christmas Steps, the ancient shopping street that had been there from before the 1600s.

Rose said she had lived in fear the bridge might be destroyed by bombers using the River Avon to reach the city, and even more afraid for Christmas Steps, as so much of the old city had been destroyed in raids.

But even when they didn’t go out, just an afternoon sitting in the little courtyard garden reading, knitting or sewing, or indeed doing some baking together in the kitchen, was so relaxed and pleasant.

The only thing Beth was struggling with was rationing.

In Ireland she’d been able to get eggs, meat and a great many other things which she now found were scarce in England.

This morning she’d made them porridge, and they’d just the last couple of spoonfuls of honey on it. The sugar had run out yesterday.

‘My real work must start today,’ Beth said with a broad smile. ‘I’ve got to use some ingenuity and find some food for us. I thought if I managed to get some yeast we could make our own bread. Any ideas about where I could get it?’

‘Ask at the baker’s in Princess Street. I doubt they’ll part with any fresh yeast, but they might have the dried stuff.

I’m told it’s quite good. Don’t be afraid to tell them it’s for me.

I’ve been a good customer of theirs for years.

And the butcher round the corner from them in the Mall– introduce yourself as my housekeeper and ask what he’s got.

It might only be scrag-end or liver, but agree to that and he’ll slip you a couple of rashers and maybe some chops.

Just don’t speak about it, or everyone in the queue will want the same.

He’ll just tap his nose and put it on my account. ’

‘I’ll feel like I’m a spy,’ Beth laughed. ‘When do I have to give him the coupons?’

‘I’ll come with you at the end of the month to settle up with cash and coupons. Vegetables should be fine, hopefully there might be runner beans and even some strawberries in the shops.’

Later that same morning, Beth walked home from Clifton Village to Lamb Lane with a full shopping basket, feeling rather pleased with herself.

She’d got yeast, the dried variety, and had been told how to use it.

She’d managed to get a pound of sugar, gooseberries, some runner beans, and a pot of honey, plus whatever was in the parcel from the butcher.

She really liked the village. The shops, though not very well stocked because of shortages, were at least interesting.

Clifton was an affluent area, and hadn’t been heavily bombed the way other parts of Bristol and its suburbs had been.