‘This flaming war’s sucked the fun out of everything,’ Ann said gloomily. Then her eyes began to twinkle. ‘Well – maybe not everything.’

‘Go on.’ Katie grinned. ‘Tell me.’ Hearing about Ann’s evenings of fun with Gordon was about the nearest she was going to get to a social life for the moment. She sat back and listened to Ann chatting about dancing and going to the pictures. But she found her mind wandering.

It was true that things were difficult at the works. Mr Graham’s grudging working relationship with Simon Collinge, and Lena Crosby’s obvious resentment of her, had made the week difficult. On the first dinner break Katie had wondered whether she and Lena would eat together and maybe get to know each other. It would have been nice to share chats and jokes about work with someone in their office. It wasn’t looking very promising, but Katie lived in hope. Lena Crosby got straight up from her desk and walked out, without even acknowledging Katie’s presence. She left a strong smell of stale cigarettes behind her. Only the men were allowed to smoke in the office. She was clearly desperate for a puff.

‘Huh, be like that then,’ Katie muttered under her breath.

She went down to the canteen and ate with the other women she already knew.

‘Where’s that new one who’s working with you?’ Maureen asked.

‘I don’t know – she must’ve gone out,’ Katie said.

Maureen grimaced. ‘Ooh – like that, is it?’

‘Well, she’s not very friendly so far,’ Katie said, shrugging.

‘And what’s he like?’ Maureen was full of curiosity.

‘Seems nice enough. I don’t really know.’

‘Goodness . . .’ Maureen eyed Katie’s already empty plate. ‘You must’ve needed that.’

‘I’ve got to nip out,’ Katie said. ‘If I hurry, I can just make it to the Bull Ring – get a bit of fruit for my mom. She’s going down with a nasty cold.’

‘Aren’t you a good girl!’ Maureen’s words followed her as she dashed out.

As the week went by, Lena Crosby did not get any less chilly and disappeared each dinnertime. When they were all eating one day, someone said, ‘I heard she’s got a husband who’s a prisoner-of-war in Germany.’

Everyone looked a bit more sympathetic after that.

One afternoon, when they were all working away in the office, Katie was typing a great sheaf of correspondence that Mr Graham had dictated to her earlier, and he was busy at his desk. Simon Collinge was standing close to Mrs Crosby, giving her dictation in a low voice so as not to disturb the others. Miss Crosby sat very correctly at her desk, her feet neatly together, rapidly taking shorthand. Katie looked up, fingers pausing on the keys of the Remington, hardly realizing she had stopped work. She looked at Mr Collinge’s tall figure, one long arm bent to rest a hand on his hip in his relaxed-looking manner, his expression one of intelligent concentration. A physical sensation went through her at the sight of him. It was the shape of him, the way he stood. And he looked so intelligent. Gosh, he’s really nice, she thought. She didn’t realize she was staring.