February 1917Kathleen pushed her hair back from her forehead, the pale strand sticky with sweat. She flapped the envelope a couple of times, but it didn’t create much coolness in the hot air, even here in the shade of the big pine tree by the sea wall. Jimmy tugged at her skirt and Tom tried to snatch the letter from her hand.
‘Stop it, you two!’
‘Are you gonna read it or not?’ demanded Tom.
‘I will, if you’ll just give me a bit of peace. Boys!’ Kathleen said with all the scorn of the only girl of the family. But as she took Jimmy up onto her knee at the same time and made space for Tom beside her on the seawall, they both took this in good frame. ‘Listen, now! Tom, can you see?’
‘Yes. It says—oh, Harry’s writing’s so scrunched. You read it!’
Kathleen smiled to herself and put on her
