He should have called out, ‘Found you!’ which would have marked the end of the game but instead, he moved carefully through the coats in the pitch black and found her. The next moment, he was kissing her. He’d waited nearly thirty years to do that again and it had been worth the wait. He thought – he hoped – from the way she kissed him back, that she felt the same way.

There was so much to say. ‘I—’ he started, when they finally drew apart but Gwen stopped him with a finger laid gently on his lips.

‘My mother couldn’t stand my husband,’ she whispered, ‘or the one or two sweethearts before him. Oh yes, there were a couple. I think the only man she ever thought good enough for me was you, Joey.’

‘JAAAAY!’ A voice yelled from the corridor outside. Esther.

He couldn’t see Gwen in the dark but she gave a little gasp and he felt her jump. He put his mouth to her ear, smelled her clean hair, let her soft curls touch his cheek.

‘Shhh,’ he said and he felt more alive in that moment than he could ever remember.

The door was flung open and a shaft of light shone in like a searchlight, making Joseph squint and put his hand up to his eyes. He stepped in front of Gwen, to hide her. Her body was pressed up against his back.

‘Oh, goodness. There you are!’ Esther said, crossly. ‘What on earth are you doing in here? The game’s OVER, Jay! What, were you going to stay hidden all night?’

He didn’t move and she tapped her foot.

‘Do come on, Jay. We’re playing parlour games now. Everyone’s waiting!’

His heart was racing but his voice, when he spoke, was calm and nonchalant. ‘Very well, darling. You go ahead. I’ll be right there.’

He didn’t quite know what he’d do if Esther insisted he came now but she huffed, turned on her heels and stomped off without another word.

He and Gwen exhaled. The door was half open and the light was shining in from the hall. He could see her now. They waited another minute, not daring to speak until they were sure no one was around.

‘You go first,’ Joseph whispered. ‘I’ll wait a respectable interval before I appear.’ He held her hand for a moment and then released it, so that she could slip away.

Alone now, he had an overwhelming urge to laugh. He couldn’t even blame it on too much whisky because he hadn’t touched a drop. Blame it on the war, then. Blame it on wanting to grasp a little happiness, while you still could.

* * *

At three o’clock everyone gathered around the wireless to listen to the Royal Christmas message. They all stood for the national anthem.