But he seemed to glance across at her often. Sometimes he would just raise an eyebrow in a humorous way, or pull up one side of his mouth in an uncertain smile. Soon he seemed to keep finding excuses to talk to her, passing her on the stairs up to the offices or on her way in and out of the building. They were only polite fragments of conversation. She had mentioned in the office that her mother had had the flu, and he asked if she was better. Or it was something about the weather, or the war. That was what everyone talked about – all the moans about rationing and shortages. But even this amount of attention felt very flattering to her and made her even more aware of him.

Katie, who had always made sure she was turned out well for work, found herself making an extra-special effort with her appearance. She always kept her clothes clean and well pressed, and her favourite was the navy suit and cream blouse that she mostly wore, knowing the outfit flattered her. Sometimes, instead of the jacket, she wore the skirt with a soft, cherry-coloured cardigan, which looked very striking against her dark hair. She made sure she kept her hair nicely trimmed, and it waved prettily along her shoulders. She rolled a piece of it and pinned it back from her face and knew it suited her. She knew she looked the best she could, under wartime restrictions.

Most of the day they were all in the office working flat out and there wasn’t much opportunity for conversation. Then one day, when Mr Graham was out of the office talking to a supplier, Simon Collinge finished dictating a letter to his shorthand typist and then, still in a businesslike voice, said, ‘Now, Mrs Crosby – I’d like you to pop out and see if you can find me some cigarettes, please.’ He fished in his pocket for money. ‘Here are my coupons – anything smokable will do.’

To Katie’s amazement, Mrs Crosby, who was a good few years older than both Katie and Mr Collinge, looked across at him with thinly veiled insolence and, tilting her head towards Katie, said, ‘Why can’t she go? She’s the office junior. And anyway, there won’t be any – I’ll have to go miles.’

Katie was shocked. What a way to talk to your boss! And she didn’t like the way Lena Crosby had tried to put her down.

If Simon Collinge was put out, he didn’t show it. He leaned on the edge of Mrs Crosby’s desk and, showing that he was not prepared to be contradicted, said, ‘Miss O’Neill works for Mr Graham, not for me. There’s no need to go far out of your way – just see what can be had round here. Now, if it’s not too much trouble, Miss Crosby . . .’

Lena Crosby got up, bristling with resentment and, with a nasty look from one to the other of them, went to get her coat.