Kate took the packet of letters Harry offered.
‘Here, these were in Nora’s bedside drawer. You might like to look at them.’
‘What are they?’
Harry sighed and then gave a reluctant grin. ‘That’s what I wrote her from France. Well, the ones she got. She kept them a good long time, eh?’
‘I’ll say. Hey, Pop, I think she must have been in love with you all along.’
Harry smiled. ‘So was I, with her. We just didn’t know how much until I went away.’
‘Why did you? Go away, I mean?’ The books Kate had consulted talked of empire and king and country, of enthusiasm for war, of atrocities in Belgium, of trouncing the vile Hun. She’d never heard Harry talk about any of these things. He wasn’t particularly patriotic, he never went to the Anzac Day march, or the RSL, or anything like that. She had t
