Sunday arrived in a blink. The week’s work done, there was a short pause, a brief moment to take a breath, while the fierce heat of the ovens diminished and the tins were scrubbed and cleaned, the flour sacks heaved into position for the next week’s bread – and it was during this quick breath that Daphne and Victor were due to visit.

‘Does it look clean to you?’ Audrey asked Lily, as she sprinkled a few drops of paraffin onto a lintless duster and polished the wooden countertop in the shop. She placed the bottle of paraffin down and paused to scrutinise her work, rubbing her lower back with her fingertips.

‘It’s spotless,’ Lily said, smoothing down her floral-print day dress and correcting her hair as she spoke. ‘The whole place looks immaculate.’

Standing with her hands on her hips, Audrey slowly ran her eyes over the bakery shop. It was small and simple, yes, but cosy and charming, and each of the teapots in the collection she had displayed on a shelf above the counter as decoration had been carefully dusted. Moving towards the window, she breathed on a small smudge on the glass and rubbed it with a hanky until it squeaked. There was little more she could do.

‘Right,’ she said, checking her pocket watch. ‘Better check the food and tidy myself up. They’ll be here in no time at all.’

When the knock on the door finally came, just before midday, Audrey almost collapsed on the floor with nerves. William’s reaction to Daphne and Victor visiting hadn’t been what she’d expected. She’d anticipated anger that it had taken this long for Daphne to show she cared, but he seemed to take it in his stride.

‘Come on, we can do it,’ said Lily, who was hanging behind Audrey in the corridor as she went to open the door. ‘They’re only our parents, Audrey! It’s not as if it’s Hitler coming to get us!’

‘Don’t speak too soon,’ said Audrey, thinking that it felt almost as bad. She let out a small nervous laugh and opened the door, plastering a big welcoming smile on her face.

On the step stood Victor and her mother, Daphne, looking just as nervous as Audrey felt. As well as her gas-mask box, Daphne held a small bunch of roses, which she offered up to Audrey, and Victor hurriedly took off his hat and held it under his arm.

Ushering them into the bakery, taking their smart city coats, enquiring after their train journey, and giving them a quick tour of the premises, she kept checking her mother’s expression to see if she could fathom her opinion of Audrey’s life in Bournemouth. Though she wouldn’t admit it to herself out loud, deep down she longed for approval – and desperately wanted Daphne to be impressed, and to appreciate the life Audrey had built for herself with Charlie. When Audrey and William’s father Don had been alive, Daphne had been a different character – warm and loving – it was only since marrying Victor that she had seemed to withdraw and close up, like a clam. But no matter how hard she scrutinised Daphne’s expression, Audrey still couldn’t tell what her mother was thinking. It was only the presence of Joy and Mary, really, that managed to break the ice, in the way only babies and children can – and, eventually, after an awkward, tense few minutes, the couple seemed more relaxed.

‘If you’d like to come up to the dining room, dinner should be ready,’ said Audrey. ‘William should be here any moment. He must have been held up.’

At the mention of William’s name, Daphne stiffened, but Audrey was determined to carry on as if this was a fairly normal event. Once everyone was seated in the best room, with the finest crockery and cutlery set out, she brought in a Woolton pie fresh from the range cooker. The Woolton pie was a vegetarian pie inspired by Lord Woolton, the Food Minister, created to provide a decent meal using home-grown ingredients. Audrey knew it didn’t beat a Sunday roast, but the butcher had had very little in the shop when she called in – only brains and knuckle and kidneys – so she decided to try the vegetable pie instead.

‘Can’t imagine the toffs eating this in the Savoy, can you?’ said Audrey, referring to the fact that the pie, packed with potatoes, swede, cauliflower, turnips, oats and cheese, was first created at the Savoy Hotel. ‘Victor, can I tempt you to a slice?’

Sitting up in his chair so straight he might as well have had a rod up the back of his shirt, Victor nodded and granted Audrey a small, tight-lipped smile. For some reason, perhaps because she was so nervous, the whole occasion suddenly made her want to laugh out loud. What would Charlie think if he could see this, she wondered. Controlling herself, she cleared her throat and served everyone around the table: Elsie, Victor, Daphne, Lily and Mary.

‘It’s wonderful to have you here,’ said Audrey, trying to break the silence as everyone tucked into the pie. ‘It’s a shame Charlie’s not here to meet you, of course. What prompted you to visit, Mother?’

Daphne paused from eating and took a sip of water, before addressing Audrey, with eyes that darted about like the sand martins on the cliffs.

‘Victor has been missing Lily somewhat,’ she said slowly, as if carefully selecting her words before she spoke. ‘And we witnessed some terrible goings-on in London through the Blitz. We lost some good friends and neighbours—’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Audrey. ‘London has suffered so badly.’

Daphne smiled at her, before continuing, ‘With the outlook so grave, the world over, we thought it best that we try to overcome our differences. Is that… did I hear…?’

There was the sound of a door slamming shut downstairs and a ‘hello’ from William, before footsteps and crutches could be heard on the stairs. Audrey leapt from her chair and opened the door, to where William was standing, leaning on his crutches.

‘William,’ she said, ‘come in. Mother and Victor have arrived, so we made a start on lunch. You’ll be wanting to say your “hello”, I’m sure…’

Audrey’s heart was in her mouth as she watched William’s face. She could tell how difficult it was for him to hold himself together. The last time he and Daphne had been together, a row had broken out that had split the family in two – no wonder his hands were trembling so terribly. This was also the first time that Daphne had seen William’s injuries. Audrey had written to her to tell her about him, but she hadn’t responded. Now though, she couldn’t hide her horror and pain. She stood from her chair and moved around the table to where he was standing. Timidly, she outstretched her arms and embraced him. William, unsure at first, suddenly relented and grasped hold of Daphne, desperately trying not to weep.

‘Oh, how could they do this to you?’ Daphne said, staring down at his foot and gently touching his face. ‘How could I not have been there for you? Victor, this can’t go on! William needed me and I wasn’t here…’

Audrey was stunned by Daphne’s reaction. Stunned and heartened. For the first time in a decade she was behaving how a mother should. Victor, taken aback, cleared his throat and also stood from his chair. He took William’s hand in his and shook it. ‘I think I owe you an apology,’ he said. ‘I’m hoping we can put all that business in the past behind us. There are much bigger fights going on these days, as you very well know.’

William nodded but didn’t speak. The emotion in the room couldn’t have been more heightened, and Audrey felt momentarily lost for words.

‘Come and have some of this pie, William,’ said Elsie. ‘Daphne, Victor, William and I are soon to be married. I’m sure he’d love for you to be there.’

‘Thank you, Elsie,’ said Daphne, her cheeks going motley pink, as she returned to her plate of half-eaten food. ‘And there’s another reason we’re here, isn’t there, Victor?’ Victor sighed and nodded, his eyes shining. He looked at Lily, who was holding Joy.

‘Lily,’ he said, ‘we’d like you to come home. I was wrong to treat you in the way I did. When I met Joy, it was like I was meeting you again, as a baby. I thought about your mother and how she would treat you. She would want you at home…’

Audrey couldn’t eat any of her pie. Victor and Daphne’s revelations felt nothing short of small miracles. It was so wonderful to see that it was possible for people to change.

‘But Lily is at home,’ piped up Mary. ‘Joy and Lily’s home is here, isn’t it? Are they going away too, now?’

Audrey picked up Mary’s hand and squeezed it. ‘Of course this is Lily’s home,’ she said. ‘But she has another one too.’

‘Thank you both,’ said Lily. ‘I can’t tell you how wonderful that is to hear, but being here, with Audrey, Mary and everyone, the bakery has become home. I’ve found a job helping refugees with their spoken English too. I’m making a life for myself, but I would love for Joy to be a part of your life. There’s nothing I would like more.’

‘Victor doesn’t mean now,’ said Daphne, imploringly. ‘London is too dangerous for a baby, but after the war. We both wanted you to know you are welcome back whenever you need, or want to come home. Henry Bateman led us to believe that you are struggling down here, but I see you have been made very welcome.’

Audrey beamed, feeling, finally, that her mother acknowledged her way of life in Bournemouth to be as warm and comforting as the bread Barton’s baked. ‘Lily is my family,’ she said. ‘I would never turn her away, or indeed anyone in need.’

‘You’ve a big heart,’ said Daphne, shame passing over her features. ‘You’re just like your father. He would have been proud of you. Was always proud of you. I am… proud of you.’

Even though she was twenty-seven years old, with a marriage and a bakery to her name, and Mary to care for and a brother to help rehabilitate and customers to provide for, something in Audrey’s heart rejoiced at her mother’s words. She felt as if a piece of a jigsaw puzzle, which had been missing for years, had finally slotted into place.

---

When Victor and Daphne left late that afternoon, Audrey joined John and William in the bakery, where they were mixing up dough and lighting the ovens for the week ahead.

‘What a day!’ she said to the men. ‘I never thought we’d see the day that they visited Bournemouth. Did you, William?’

William turned to face her and smiled, just like the way he used to smile when he was a young boy. If it wasn’t for his scars and his injuries, it could have been ten years earlier.

‘Folk are full of surprises, that’s for sure,’ said John, before dusting off the blade of his long-handed peel. ‘I’ll be buggered if I can work ’em out!’