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“You’re probably right.”

“Gosh, it’s good to be outside,” said Alexandra, throwing back her head as the wind ruffled both of their hair.

It was beginning to feel as though the English summer might actually be on its way. All around them, the air base buzzed with activity like a hive. They had been at RAF Horsham St Faith for just over a fortnight, but already she’d become used to the constant sound of planes and the smell of oil and fuel.

“Did you finally decide to write your sister?” asked Alexandra after they rounded an administrative building.

Izzie held up her letter. “Yes.”

“Are you going to accept her apologies?” asked Alexandra.

“No.”

Alexandra nodded, and Izzie appreciated that her friend didn’t try to push the matter any further.

In the hours after her fight with Sylvia, Izzie had worried what Alexandra must think of her. Her cheeks had flamed hot red when her friend had walked her to Mayfair and the largest house Izzie had ever laid eyes on. Lady Menby, Alexandra’s mother, had come out of a drawing room in a neat suit of aubergine wool and greeted Izzie as though she were a long-lost relative. Then came Lord Menby and one of the famous brothers, George, everyone speaking all at once as they kissed Alexandra and shook hands with Izzie and demanded stories of the WAAF. When finally Izzie, slightly overwhelmed by the reception and by what had just happened at the shop, managed to catch her friend’s eye, Alexandra announced she wanted to see Izzie settled and led her up to a guest room.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” said Alexandra, opening the door to one of the most beautiful spaces Izzie had ever been in. It had white wallpaper trimmed in gold, and a plush pale blue carpet underfoot. The moment she stepped inside, shame washed over her. How could she have lost her temper with her sister and argued so crudely in front of Lady Alexandra.

Her expression must have changed because Alexandra immediately said, “We’ll have none of that. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”

Izzie sank down on the edge of the bed. “What you must think of us Sheltons…”

“I think that family can be complicated,” said Alexandra, as though it was the most natural thing in the world that Izzie should have lost her temper with her sister like she had. “No one’s family is perfect, and I certainly don’t expect yours to be.”

Her friend’s quick understanding that afternoon in that huge house in Mayfair had been a comfort, and she’d spent the rest of her short leave wrapped up in the warmth of Alexandra’s family. However, as soon as they had arrived at RAF Horsham St Faith, Sylvia’s letters had started arriving, and Izzie knew that she could only put her sister off for so long.

“You know,” said Alexandra as they walked, “I’ve been thinking about something your sister said.”

“What’s that?” Izzie asked.

Alexandra seemed to hesitate before saying, “It isn’t my place really, but what if your mother was wrong?”

“Wrong? About what?”

The questions must have sounded harsher than she’d meant them to, because Alexandra quickly said, “It’s only a thought.”

The instinct to defend her mother roared up in her, but Izzie shoved it down. Alexandra was a friend and was only trying to help.

“Please tell me more,” she forced herself to say.

“Well,” Alexandra started, “it sounds like Sylvia is trying to help the business. You said yourself that she sorted out the shop’s accounts, and it sounds like her advertisements have brought in some new customers.”

Izzie started to protest, but Alexandra shook her head.

“Let me finish, Izzie. I think your sister is doing her best in a difficult situation with rationing and the war, but at least she’s trying.”

“She took my sketches without permission,” Izzie said stubbornly.

“Yes, she should have asked, but I saw your sketches, Izzie. They’re beautiful. Why wouldn’t you want them to be sold?” Alexandra asked.

The emotion that had been threatening to choke her for weeks welled up in her throat again. “That’s kind of you, but this is all just because Sylvia feels guilty.”

“What does your sister have to feel guilty about?” asked Alexandra.

“Sylvia and Mum never saw eye to eye. When Dad died, he left Mum with virtually nothing. He was a barrister, so I’ve never understood why, but Mum never spoke about it. I do know that she went to his family for help. Apparently they never approved of the marriage, so we barely saw them when Dad was alive, but my grandfather gave her enough money to buy the shop to provide us with a living.

“Sylvia hated the shop. She’s four years older than I am, so she remembers our old house and what it was like to have a maid to do all of the chores. Mum always said Dad treated Sylvia like a princess, showering her with pretty dresses, books, and singing lessons.