A police officer's knock on the door, a hurried packing of bags, a goodbye kiss and a rousing farewell from the quayside. Then home to an empty house and questions from the children.

`Where's daddy gone?' was a tough one. The wives who were left behind were unsure themselves.

Many of them had to look up the Falklands on the map and most were convinced daddy would be home soon. It was just a case of sending the Argies home with a flea in their ear.

Only after the war did husbands show their wives the farewell letters they would have received in the event of a tragedy.

The realisation Britain was at war only hit home when HMS Sheffield went down.

At that point many women deliberately switched over to avoid the nine o'clock news on TV. Others found it an irresistible magnet.

For Heather Prime, whose husband Lieutenant Commander John Prime was navigations officer and operations officer on HMS Fearless, `life started to revolve around the news'.

`The children learnt that was the time they shouldn't make a noise,' she says.

Heather, who lives near Havant, perhaps knew a little more than some wives because of her husband's rank. She knew early on it was likely to develop into open warfare.

But communication was sporadic and often constrained in newsgrams, where emotions had to be captured in a few elliptical phrases: `all well, beard reviving'.

Heather's darkest hour came when Fearless sailed into San Carlos waters and prepared to land. Then came the announcement five unidentified ships had been hit.

`They gave out phone lines you could call but they were all jammed. I kept ringing relatives and friends just to chat to someone, but it was 3am when I finally got through to be told, "Fearless is okay, don't worry about her."

A few days later, Karen Cole, a young mother of two, endured a similar nightmare. News came through another ship had been hit and she was convinced it was HMS Intrepid on which her husband, Petty Officer Derek Cole, was serving.

`I live in a small square and four people from the other side were on my doorstep within four minutes of the report and they stayed with me until just gone midnight.'

It turned out to be the merchant ship the Atlantic Conveyor which was set on fire and abandoned on May 25, but confirmation the Intrepid was safe did not filter through until the following day.

Even when the true story filtered through in letters from the forces, the men didn't always give the full details.

Karen, now 42 and living in Gosport, was astounded to read her husband's log on his return. She had no idea what he had been going through.

`He was bombed and they were very frightened. He said on May 29 he had his nose to the floor most of the time. He was requested to go and put out the fire on the Antelope, but it had gone down before he got there.'

In all this uncertainty, the pressure on women to remain cheerful for their children's sake was intense.

Many, like Heather Prime, found it difficult when friends faded away, too embarrassed to keep asking how she was coping.

But most navy wives met frequently to talk through their feelings, record videos for their partners and set up emergency telephone chains.

Heather recalls raiding her husband's wardrobe to find some outfits for a close friend who had survived a direct hit on HMS Sheffield and lost all his clothes.

`It was pretty grim and everyone started smoking again,' says Carole Bezani, whose husband Ray was a chief petty officer on HMS Invincible. `But we supported each other.'

Talking to other wives and girlfriends made Carole realise she was missing out. She wrote to her husband to ask why she hadn't received the gifts being lavished on other women. A large package arrived soon afterwards.

`All the men grew beards because their anti-flash gear had hoods and the beards stopped them chaffing their faces. And that's what he sent me, his beard.'

The fallout of war did not fade the moment the men moored up. Many relationships crumbled and divorce was common.

`Many of my friends said it was a different man who came back,' says Carole, who now runs two guests houses and the Old Lodge Hotel in Gosport. `Ray didn't talk about it until now.'

Many families have been able to hold on to their memories. Heather still has all the letters her husband sent her and every copy of The News published during the conflict. Carole still has her husband's beard - and a picture of his wounded big toe.

One of Commander Prime's favourite keepsakes is a card his four-year-old daughter gave him after the ceasefire.

`Dear Daddy, I'm glad you won the war and hope you will be home soon, Your cuddly Alexandra,' it reads.

A letter from Alexandra Prime to her father