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and put it on the table. ‘Help yourself to another bun, if you like.’
    â€˜I would like, very much indeed. You know, as landladies go, you’re the best I’ve ever had.’
    â€˜I’m the only one you’ve ever had.’
    â€˜I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that.’ Sinking his teeth into his second bun, he looked around the kitchen. Lily and Martin had made a lot of changes since they had taken over the house after Lily’s Uncle Roy had married Judy’s mother and moved out, and all of them were for the better. Martin had bought Lily every labour-saving gadget on the market, like the Bendix washing machine, Hoover, gas cooker, electric toaster and brand-new, sixty-six guinea, Everest blue Frigidaire he had presented her with on her last birthday, yet somehow Lily had still managed to make the room look warm, cosy and inviting. ‘Good rock buns.’ He pushed the last few crumbs into his mouth.
    â€˜If you eat any more, you won’t have room for those fish and chips.’
    â€˜You’re right. Goodbye, dear buns, I hope to see you tomorrow.’ He pushed the top back on the tin and returned it to the shelf. ‘Any messages for Judy?’
    â€˜Only that I’ll see her at Jack’s party tomorrow. Is Mike going?’
    â€˜He’s on shift.’ Sam grinned. ‘It was mine but I persuaded him I needed the night off more than him. Do you think Jack will have changed much?’
    â€˜Don’t you start, that’s all Helen can talk about.’
    â€˜Poor beggar. Two years National Service was more than I could bear. Those extra six months must have felt like a life sentence. Well, no peace for the wicked – and ever hopeful.’ He picked up the packet of tea. ‘Thanks for this.’
    Martin stood outside the gate at Swansea station and watched passengers stream off the London train. Considering it was a freezing cold evening in March, a surprising number had made the journey. Young men and women who worked in the ‘Smoke’ returning for the weekend, an elderly couple burdened with so many parcels they were either bringing presents for half the people in Swansea or had been on a mammoth shopping spree, a couple of students wearing college scarves. He stared at a young man who strode confidently down the platform. He was Jack’s height, colouring and build, but the army had changed radically since his day if they allowed National Servicemen to wear their hair that long.
    â€˜Marty.’
    He whirled around as someone tapped his shoulder. ‘Jack?’ he muttered tentatively, staring at his brother.
    â€˜Have I changed that much?’
    â€˜Only grown a foot and a half and put on about six stone.’
    â€˜Four stone and four inches.’
    â€˜And with a suntan a Hollywood star would envy and an almost bald head.’
    â€˜By army standards this is long.’ Jack ran his hand over his regulation short back and sides. ‘If I buy you a pint in the Grand, do you think you could shut your mouth long enough for it to go down?’
    â€˜Try me.’ Taking one of the bags Jack was carrying, Martin shook his brother’s hand before leading the way across the station yard to the hotel.

Chapter Two
    â€˜So.’ Jack moved along the bench seat to make room for his brother when Martin returned from the bar with two pints of beer. ‘What’s been happening in Swansea since I left, apart from you marrying Lily, and Katie, Mr Griffiths?’
    Too taken aback to absorb Jack’s question, Martin continued to stare at his brother. ‘I would have passed you in the street …’
    â€˜Or at a railway station,’ Jack broke in dryly.
    â€˜Helen’s going to have the shock of her life. She’ll never believe it’s you.’
    â€˜She’d better.’ Jack took the pint Martin gave him. ‘Cheers. And how is my wife?’
    â€˜Fine, or she was last