‘Jesus. Take it from me – now’s a good time to start.’

Ignoring him, Jack undid the button of his breast pocket and pulled out the photograph. Its glaze was creased and broken now, threads of white marring the image, but its shabby condition did not lessen the comfort it gave him. He drew his thumb over Gwen’s smiling features.

‘Won’t be long now, sergeant.’ The men around him shuffled aside to make room for the lieutenant to squeeze in beside him. ‘We’ll get Jerry on the run and see if we can’t get you home, shall we? Back to that lovely young family of yours. Get us all bloody home, if we can,’ he muttered, flicking open his cigarette case. ‘We’ll be loading onto the landing craft soon. I’ll leave you to get the men ready.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good luck, sergeant.’

‘And you, sir.’

The lieutenant moved on, struggling past men huddled like sheep on market day. Jack studied the photograph for a final time, then tucked it back into his pocket.

They’d be better off with him gone.

‘Make way … come on, let me through … make way …’

The familiar cadence of an accent from home did not attract his attention anymore. He checked his watch. Thunderous booms sounded in the distance. One of the neighbouring ships let loose with its big guns. Great flashes of light erupted from barrels immediately engulfed by billowing smoke. Some of the men pushed their way to the railing to get a better view. A shell exploded in the sea beside them. The eruption of water provoked shouts of alarm but Jack paid it little heed. His mind was on other things.

They’d be better off with him gone.

‘Come on, you bastards, make way …’

A sailor was battling through the thronged soldiers. He ignored the ill-tempered swearing and coarse remarks that greeted him as he threaded himself through the crush.

‘All right, man, take it easy,’ Jack grumbled as the man pushed past him.

‘Jesus! Jack? Jack Ellison as I live and breathe, is that really you?’

The sailor gripped his shoulders. Jack gaped in disbelief as he found himself looking into a face he had consigned to the past. He let out a roar of delight as they pulled each other into a sturdy embrace, with backslapping and good-natured cursing.

‘Ben? What the hell are you doing here?’

‘I had the good sense to join the navy – what’s your excuse?’ Their laughter appeared carefree, but both knew this unexpected reunion was a precious gift; neither might survive the coming onslaught.

There was little time to catch up. Above them, RAF Typhoons droned like hornets protecting a threatened nest. Tipping his head back, Jack watched them fly over and swore softly under his breath.

‘Aye, it’s going to be some party, all right,’ Ben said. ‘Have you had any news from home?’