How I wish I hadn’t opened this. I can’t help myself.

‘. . . the deepest sympathy on the loss of your husband . . .’

Now I’m going to have to tell her.

‘. . . death from concussion came instantaneously . . .’

She can see me through the window. She sees my approaching tears. I see the look in her eyes.

‘We miss him very much. He was a good soldier . . .’

She is at the door, one hand over her mouth.

‘War is a hard game and we do not know from one day to another who is next. It is hard for those left at home, but ‘greater love has no man but this that . . .’

Softly, “Mum . . . It’s Dad . . .”