‘Oh, I see,’ Jane said stoically. ‘Well, of course, family must come first.’

Soon she had a job in the kitchen at Butlin’s and Liza was a chalet maid. About halfway through the summer they moved to the Skegness camp and worked there. Molly liked the freedom of this, the way it indulged her sense of restlessness. And in the main she liked camp life. Some of the staff were local women who came to work in the kitchens or as cleaners, but many – the Jaffas in the dining halls in their orange coats, the Redcoats and all the others – were like themselves: single and young and looking for a job and a bit of fun. There was a sense of camaraderie – in that respect Ruth was right, it was a bit like the army, and Molly liked it for that. There were also a good many fights and fallings-out among the staff, and filching and cheating, but it was nothing that life hadn’t prepared Molly for and she was quite able to cope. Camp life gave her some security. It was much less lonely than life at The Laurels.

What was harder was the constant attention of men – both other staff and, quite often, the campers themselves. But Molly was learning gradually that she could put up a barrier: be friendly, but distant. It was a discovery to her that she wasn’t obliged to please any man who came along.

Life in the camp was very busy, and it would have been quite easy to forget about anyone outside. She sent Em a card from the Skegness camp, remembering guiltily that it was a long time since she’d written. But she was better at keeping in touch with Ruth. For all that their lives were so different, they somehow needed each other, and so long as Molly let Ruth know where she was, sooner or later a letter or card would arrive, addressed in blue ink in Ruth’s neat, sloping hand.

Sometime last summer a card had arrived saying:

Any chance of your getting into London for a day? I’ll be there for a few days – thought I’d meet Win. It would be fun if you could come too.

They’d gathered on a warm day, in a cafe in one of the streets leading off Trafalgar Square. Ruth had met Molly’s train, and they rattled round the Circle Line on the Tube. Molly enjoyed walking the streets of London again, trying not to dwell on the last time she had made her way round here in a light cotton frock – the days she had stayed with Tony and his family. London, to her, meant both acute pleasure and agonizing grief.

‘They’re coming at half past eleven,’ Ruth said, as they ambled past the fountains in the square.

‘They?’

‘Ah – I didn’t tell you. I think she’s bringing the Gorgon along with her!’

Molly’s pulse quickened. Why? She asked herself. Why should I be nervous now? She regarded Phoebe with a mixture of awe and affection – and still saw her as a superior officer. It was hard to imagine her as anything else.