Chapter 80

Guy Fawkes was followed by a much larger celebration. Armistice came on 11 November, 1918 and the war was truly over. Relief shuddered through my body as fear slipped away. For months I had worried that if the war continued, I would be sent back to the front. We held a subdued celebration in the kitchen, toasted peace, and tried not to think about Sir Jeffrey upstairs or all those who would never come home.

Winter arrived early and by the end of November, tones of grey and brown blanketed the countryside. No new cases of flu emerged, which lightened the mood. As a nation we had collectively held our breath for months, and then let it out as a wintery blast of relief. It seemed at last our battles were over and we could look forward to Christmas.

Ella beamed with joy when Sir Jeffrey stopped drooling. I tried to share in her excitement, but it was difficult when his condition was entirely my fault. What I would have given to swap places with him. It should have been me, not our brave