I go and fetch my pack to the bedside and turn out the things I have brought⁠—a whole Edamer cheese, that Kat provided me with, two loaves of army bread, three-quarters of a pound of butter, two tins of livered sausage, a pound of dripping and a little bag of rice.

“I suppose you can make some use of that⁠—”

They nod.

“It is pretty bad for food here?” I enquire.

“Yes, there’s not much. Do you get enough out there?”

I smile and point to the things I have brought. “Not always quite as much as that, of course, but we fare reasonably well.”

Erna takes away the food. Suddenly my mother seizes hold of my hand and asks falteringly: “Was it very bad out there, Paul?”