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for me, won’t you?’
    â€˜I’ve never known a young woman better able to look after herself,’ said Margaret. ‘What foolishness do you anticipate?’
    â€˜She’s turned down an offer of marriage from Arthur. I’m certainly not implying that’s foolish. Arthur seems to me to be a cold man.’ Brinsley laughed. ‘Kate thinks he has his eyes on part of Father’s estate as a marriage settlement.’
    â€˜Then Kate is uncharitable. I agree that Arthur doesn’t appear likely to fall passionately in love with anyone, but he’s been fond of Kate since she arrived in England. It would fit his nature to choose someone he knows well for a wife, rather than a strange young woman. Anyway, we may agree that Kate has made the right decision.’
    â€˜But for the right reason? She told me she’d be ashamed to devote herself to the comfort of one man when she should be using her skills to serve hundreds. I wouldn’t like her to end up as an old maid like Beatrice.’
    â€˜One day she’ll be swept off her feet by a dashingyoung prince on a white charger and all her doubts will be forgotten. That’s not really what’s worrying you, is it, Brinsley?’
    â€˜I don’t know what’s worrying me,’ he confessed. ‘But she’s planning something. She has that broody look. I’d like to feel that you’d discuss with her any ideas she may be considering.’
    â€˜Well, of course,’ Margaret assured him. ‘You know very well that Kate is almost a daughter to me, just as you are another son. Look after yourself, Brinsley.’
    It was a foolish remark to make to a young man on his way to a battlefield. For a few seconds Brinsley’s smile seemed a little less carefree than usual. As he kissed her goodbye, Margaret could feel the depth of his affection for her. He had never put it into words and he did not do so now, but it was true that for the past eight years their relationship had been almost that of mother and son. While she watched him make his farewells to Beatrice and Robert and Piers Glanville and Alexa, she felt a moment of sympathy for his mother, her dear friend Lydia, who had been deprived of so many years out of her elder children’s lives.
    Whistles were blowing. Brinsley had saved his last embrace for Kate and for a moment brother and sister clung together as though they feared that they might never see each other again. But the prevailing atmosphere was one of excitement, not sadness. Brinsley leaped on to the train and reappeared almost at once to smile from a window. Everyone was waving now: the platform fluttered with handkerchieves. With a blast from the steam whistle the engine began to hiss and puff. Very slowly, so that Margaret and Kate found it possible for a few seconds to keep pace with Brinsley as he leaned from the window, the train began to move. There was a last-minute rush of repeated messages; hands were clasped and reluctantly released. The engine picked up speed and the band started to play again.
    They played ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’. The soldiers leaning from the train sang it lustily and as their voices faded the civilians on the platform took up the chorus. They sang it through a second time, and a third, still waving at the blank end of the guard’s van as it pulled away along the rails and curved out of sight.
    The soldiers were not, of course, going to Tipperary but to Ypres. A dead weight of anti-climax stifled the excitement on the platform as the band ceased to play. The waving handkerchieves drooped and were put to a different use, dabbing at eyes unable any longer to smile. The little group of Lorimers lingered on the platform, reluctant to disperse – as though the parting need not be considered final until they as well as Brinsley had left the station. Even Margaret, who had taken time off from her hospital duties, could not bring herself