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Myles was with his mother for over two hours, during which time Beth did some cleaning.

When he came back down, she turned to him from dusting the sideboard. ‘What do you think is wrong with her? Was our doctor right?’

Myles looked thoughtful. ‘Possibly, but the pancreas is tucked away so problems there are difficult to diagnose. Once they’ve got going there is little that can be done.

I could get her into a hospital for some tests, but when I suggested that she insisted she didn’t want anyone probing around her.

She wants to stay here with you. I can’t blame her for that, Beth, you have clearly been better than a trained nurse. I can’t thank you enough.’

‘She’s not difficult to love,’ Beth said. ‘My time here has been very happy, even after she became poorly. Now, let me get you something to eat. She usually snoozes till lunchtime– not that she eats much! It’s a job to tempt her, there’s so little stuff in the shops.’

‘Well, I’ve brought a few things which might do the trick,’ he said, opening up the bag he’d left on the floor.

He brought out two sizeable tins of ham, a couple of jars of bottled peaches, some butter, and four packets of cake mix.

‘The cake mixes are all the rage in Canada; I doubt they’ve made their way here yet.

The devil’s food one is gorgeous. Rich, moist chocolate.

Everything you need, apart from an egg.’

‘How wonderful!’ Beth’s smile was from ear to ear. Just looking at the tinned ham made her mouth water. ‘We must have some of that for lunch today. And I’ll make the devil’s food. I’ve actually got two eggs, which is a miracle. She eats cake more readily than anything else.’

‘In that case I’ll get out of your hair for a while. It will be good to walk around Clifton again and see how things are.’

‘We’ve been quite lucky here with bombing. Park Street took a hammering, but mostly everywhere else is intact, I think you’ll find. After lunch I usually stay upstairs with your mother to chat. I knit or sew, sometimes I read to her, but I’m sure she’d love you to take my place.’

‘I can’t knit or sew,’ he joked. ‘And I think she’d like it if you were there with me, conversation always flows better with three.’

Myles poured himself a second cup of tea and scraped some butter on his toast. He’d been here for four days, and sadly he knew his mother was fading fast. Now he was here with her, her mind would’ve told her body she could let go and die.

He remembered as a medical student being told by a very senior doctor that he’d observed this reaction in old people being reunited with a close relative many times. It wasn’t a myth, it was true.

Yet despite the inevitable that was to come, these four days had been a happy time.

In many ways it was like reliving his boyhood, a far cry from the stress of a large Canadian hospital.

But instead of his mother fussing over him, it was Beth doing the fussing.

They had talked with Rose, played cards, looked at old photographs, and laughed a great deal.

He owed Beth for Rose’s well-being. She managed to make tasty things for her to eat, rubbed cream into her arms and legs to make her feel more comfortable, and was always alert to the possibility of bed sores.

She had devised a way of washing Rose’s hair in the bathroom basin once a week, then she dried it carefully, teasing out her natural curls so it looked pretty. He thought she was born to be a nurse.

She had only worked one afternoon at Hambleden House since he’d been here, as she really didn’t like to leave Rose.

He thought the convalescent home were lucky to have a volunteer like her.

And he was fortunate to have such a wonder caring for his mother.

He just hoped Harry turned out to be as good a man as Beth and Rose believed him to be, and that they’d be as happily married as his parents were.

After lunch Beth wanted to finish reading The Long Winter to Rose, and so Myles said he would go to visit an old school friend and be back at four-thirty.

As Beth always did, she got onto Rose’s bed beside her to read, putting a cushion behind her own head.

She had been reading for almost an hour when she realized Rose had dropped off to sleep.

She was feeling a bit sleepy herself, and as it was pouring with rain she couldn’t do some weeding in the garden as planned.

So she stayed where she was and closed her eyes.

Myles arrived home at four-thirty as promised, buoyed up with excitement as he’d just heard on the wireless that Hitler and Eva Braun had committed suicide in Berlin. He put his umbrella in the hall stand, hung up his raincoat, and took off his wet shoes.

He glanced into the living room, but Beth wasn’t there so he went up the stairs quietly so as not to wake his mother.

Her bedroom door was open just a crack, and he smiled when he saw both women fast asleep, Beth snuggled up to Rose with her arm round her.

He stood there for a moment or two, touched because Rose looked so peaceful, and that Beth was so loving towards her, just as his mother had said in her letters to him. But all at once he had a premonition, and creeping into the room he took his mother’s wrist.

No pulse. To be sure he felt for a pulse on her neck and listened to hear if she was breathing. But she had passed– very recently, as her skin was still warm.

Clearly the way she was lying, encircled by Beth’s arm, she had slipped away without pain. That was a real comfort, but he had banked on a little more time with her and he felt his eyes well up and a lump come to his throat.

‘Beth,’ he said softly. ‘Wake up, Beth!’

Her eyes flew open. ‘Oh Myles, what must you think. I dropped off.’

‘It’s OK. But Mother has slipped away.’

She leapt off the bed, leaning over Rose as she almost didn’t believe him. As the truth hit, her face crumpled and she began to cry.

Myles went to comfort her. ‘It was a good death, you there beside her, nice and warm in her own bed. Few people go in such a perfect way. She clearly had no pain or she would’ve called out. But I must call her doctor now to register her death. Come downstairs with me and I’ll make you some tea.’

‘It’s me who should be comforting you,’ Beth said, her lips quivering as she tried to control herself.

‘The way she died was the one I would’ve chosen for her,’ Myles said.

‘I didn’t need to give her morphine, she didn’t suffer the indignity of incontinence, or the embarrassment of knowing she was losing her reason.

Let’s be happy for her, Beth. She’d had a good, happy life, and you can be proud that you were a wonderful, caring companion for her right to the end. ’

‘But I’ll miss her so much,’ Beth sobbed.

‘And me,’ Myles said, and he began to cry too.

It was much later that evening, the doctor been and gone, the undertaker having taken Rose’s body to his chapel of rest, and the immediate neighbours notified, before Myles got around to informing Beth of Hitler’s death.

‘We won’t cry for him or even offer a prayer for his soul,’ Beth said bitterly. ‘But it is wonderful that this means the war is as good as over. It is, isn’t it?’

‘It certainly is. And your Harry will be able to come home and marry you.’

Rose’s funeral was held on 7 May at Christ Church in Clifton, the day Germany surrendered unconditionally.

England was virtually holding its breath for the announcement later that day that the war in Europe was officially over.

The joy and excitement on the streets were palpable, Union Jacks and banners going up everywhere, and paper streamers and balloons.

Public houses rolled out new barrels of beer in readiness for the all-day party that was to come tomorrow.

‘It’s difficult to mourn anyone seriously on such a happy day,’ Myles said to Beth as they followed the hearse driving at walking pace to Christ Church.

Many neighbours and friends had joined them.

Their sombre clothes looked out of place when every other woman in the neighbourhood had dug out her brightest dress to wear in the even brighter sunshine.

‘But Mother wouldn’t have wanted sadness all around her,’ Myles added. ‘Tonight, she’ll be tucked in with my father, together for all eternity.’

Beth agreed in principle with Myles, but she still couldn’t help wishing Rose could have hung on to see her married. Harry would be very sad she wouldn’t be there.

The words that Reverend Humphrey spoke about Rose’s life comforted Beth and Myles.

He said how countless people had been helped by her as a doctor’s wife, and after her husband’s death.

Until recently she was still fundraising for the poor, sick and troubled people in the parish.

‘She made light of it, but all those who knew her were in no doubt she was often working half the night on a new project. She had the rare gift of listening properly to people. She didn’t judge, or gossip, she just cared and strove to get the right help they needed.

‘I want everyone here today to follow her example. If you succeed, we can make this world a better place.’

Myles took Beth’s hand and squeezed it hard during the service. She could see it was hard for him to control his feelings. He wasn’t the much-admired surgeon now, just a man grieving for his mother, and perhaps that was the best tribute anyone could give Rose.

The following day, church bells rang out all over Bristol for the end of the war. Rose and Myles decided they couldn’t possibly join the throngs of people celebrating in the centre of town, so they took a blanket, packed a little picnic, and walked over the Suspension Bridge into Leigh Woods.

They found a lovely spot with bluebells all around them, and first discussed the funeral, both agreeing that the final interment was the saddest part.