‘I have no idea why you take the bloody foolhardy risks you do, sergeant.’ His lieutenant squatted beside him, an unlit cigarette propped between his lips. He searched his pockets for his lighter. ‘How you pulled off that stunt today I’ve no idea. You’re like a cat with nine bloody lives, but you’ll come a cropper one of these days if you don’t learn to pull your neck in.’

Jack said nothing but thought, That’s rather the point, sir.

The officer lit his cigarette and screwed up his eyes as he inhaled. Smoke escaped between his teeth as he moved to get a better look at the photograph in Jack’s hand.

‘All I know is if I had a beauty like that waiting for me, I’d be doing my utmost to stay alive, not trying to get myself killed.’ He bounced up to standing. Jack did not respond to the man’s continued scrutiny – he had no desire to break off his study of Gwen’s face to meet it. The officer sighed.

‘You’re a brave soldier, Jack, no one could say otherwise. But death is stalking all of us, you’ve no need to court it. Just… take it easy, stop being so reckless … and then maybe we can do our best to make sure you get back to them. To that family of yours. That’s all I want to say.’

Jack did not look up to see the melancholy smile the officer presented, nor did he see the baffled shake of his head. He was grateful when the man finally moved away, his boots crunching on debris as he crossed to join the men feasting on the contents of their billy cans.

Jack caressed Gwen’s face with the side of his thumb once more, then secured the photograph inside his breast pocket. He rested his head back on the wall and closed his eyes.

He wondered what his lieutenant would think if he knew the truth: that they were not his family; that he could never go home; and that his getting killed would be the best outcome for them all.

Chapter Forty-One

September 1945

Jack’s heart is pounding like a jackhammer.

He feels suddenly lightheaded, perhaps due to the heat of the day, or lack of sleep, or his empty belly – or maybe because he is here at last. And so is she.

He has done his best not to imagine this moment – though on occasion he has succumbed to the sweet torture of this particular fantasy. But standing here now, seeing the blatant shock on Gwen’s face, he becomes painfully aware of the promise he made – the promise he is now breaking.

‘Jack.’ She croaks his name, then wipes a bead of sweat from the corner of her eye with the tip of her finger. ‘Jack,’ she says again, her tone disappointingly leaden. His shy smile falters.