And for once I drained the cup before I lay back against the pillows, too weak to do more than watch the shadows of sunlight on water that danced across the ceiling above my head. The sea air was heavenly, the sun bright, no guns thundering in the distance too close for comfort. I took a deep breath and smiled.

As she took the cup away, my mother must have said something to my father, because he came in almost at once, taking up my hands as they lay on the coverlet and kissing them gently. “Welcome home,” he said, his voice husky.

Much later I understood how hard it had been for him, this illness of mine. For once in his life, he had faced an enemy a regiment with all its might couldn’t defeat.

He sat for a time by my bed, watching me as I drifted quietly into sleep again, and when I woke, it was Simon sitting there in his place.

“The Colonel is resting. Your mother as well,” he told me softly. “I don’t think they’ve closed their eyes for days.”

I was sure he hadn’t either, for the lines of worry in his face told their own tale.

Smiling, he fed me more broth, and held my hand as my father had done while I slipped in and out of a healing sleep.

They took it by turns, the three of them, staying constantly by my side, plumping pillows, feeding me until I could manage a spoon for myself, and talking of things that had nothing to do with war or sickness. Gradually I understood where I was and was even carried to the window to lie there for a while and watch the sea below.

When I was stronger I was allowed to sit on the sunny balcony, swathed in blankets and shawls. My father read to me sometimes, and Simon sat by me in companionable silence. My mother tried not to treat me like her small daughter recovering from measles, and that was a measure of how frightened she had been for me.

I on the other hand was unspeakably grateful that the three people dearest to me in the world had not been struck down by this merciless killer. I learned too that Mrs. Hennessey, who let the flat where I stayed in London on my leaves, had also come through unscathed. Mary, one of my flatmates, had been ill, but it was a milder case, and she had survived. Diana had been just as lucky. There was no accounting for the way the disease had chosen its victims.