Glenys laughed. ‘Why does everyone’s mind immediately fly to a posting?’ she enquired. ‘I believe you know what it’s about . . . c’mon, spit it out, and I don’t mean the stew!’

‘If you do mean the stew I’ve half a mind to obey your command,’ Jane said, pulling a face. ‘I don’t know anything.’ She glanced at her companion’s plate. ‘It’s not fair. Who’s Cooky’s favourite, then? You’ve got a lump of meat and some carrots! Then it’s true what they say about tall people having an advantage over shorter ones. I shall complain to the next promotion board I attend.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Glenys said, applying herself to her plate. ‘Tell you what, Janie, this stew isn’t half bad! And there’s treacle duff for afters, my favourite.’ She looked hopefully at her friend. ‘You keep telling everyone you’re trying to slim, so why not let me have your portion of duff?’

Jane began to speak but was cut short. ‘Private Trent, I’ve been a-searchin’ for you, and Bennett here, this hour an’ more.’ The sergeant’s voice was plaintive. ‘Come to my room as soon as you’ve finished guzzlin’, and no delayin’ tactics, if you please!’

‘Yes, sarge,’ Glenys said obediently, ‘as soon as we’ve finished our treacle duff.’ She looked at Sergeant Reeves’s large, brick-red face and bristling grey eyebrows, half expecting a reproof for even mentioning it, but instead he nodded.

‘Oh, awright, finish the pud.’ He looked with disfavour at their battle dress blouse and trousers, which was the uniform drivers usually wore except on special occasions. ‘Better change them trousers for skirts, though, if you want to make a good impression . . . but enough said. Get a move on or the officer will put me on a charge for keepin’ him waitin’. And furthermore, he’ll think I’ve shot my mouth off which I were told particular not to do.’ He put a finger the size of a pork sausage across his lips. ‘Very hush-hush; walls have ears,’ he muttered.

Glenys was about to remind him that they had both signed the Official Secrets Act when he turned and fought his way past the queue of incoming service men and women. Once he was well out of earshot, she raised her brows at her friend. ‘If there’s one thing which makes me curiouser and curiouser, as Lewis Carroll would say, it’s a sergeant with a secret,’ she observed. ‘And now let me concentrate on finishing this stew.’

Jane got to her feet. ‘I’ll go and fetch the duffs for you, and then I’m going to change. Meet me in the hut in twenty minutes.’

Glenys thought of saying she would skip the pudding and go with her friend, but changed her mind when Jane plonked two helpings of duff before her and whisked away her empty tin plate. Treacle duff was Glenys’s favourite of all the cookhouse’s rather uninspired puddings, so she seized her spoon and began to wield it with all possible speed. The sergeant was a kindly man, who got on well with all his drivers; it would not be fair to keep him waiting. She scraped the second plate clean, and hurried to the hut where Jane awaited her. At lightning speed, she changed into her skirt, rubbed a duster across her neat brown boots, gave her hair in its curly bob a couple of taps with her hairbrush and then raised her eyebrows at her friend. ‘Ready?’ she said. ‘Do you know, I’ve been giving the matter some thought and I believe it might be a very good thing if we changed our trade. I enjoyed driving at first, but it’s become pretty humdrum, wouldn’t you say?’