He braked, ushered her out of the car and, taking her arm, led her towards a blacked-out place that she could only just make out in the darkness. As they approached, the door opened and closed again, and for those seconds she saw light inside and heard a burst of voices.

Inside, behind the steamed-up, blacked-out windows, a canteen had been set up and tables arranged round a large space. There were quite a few people eating and there was a fuggy atmosphere, damp and sweat-tinged, along with the smells of the food.

‘Here we are,’ Simon announced. ‘Eating amid the people. Let’s go and see what they’ve got tonight.’

He addressed the women serving the food in hearty tones and Katie wondered what they thought of him. He seemed so superior to them, and she could see that he knew it, but was trying not to show it. She felt proud to be standing here beside him. He’s an engineer, she thought. Like Daddy was. That was really something.

‘Grilled chops and veg and jam tart and custard,’ one of the women informed him in a bored monotone.

‘Lovely!’ he said. ‘Suit you, Katie?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said.

They carried their plates – dark gravy pooled round mashed potato and cabbage on one plate, wafer-thin jam tart on the other – to a table that was dotted with the remains of other eaters’ meals. A young woman hurried up and wiped the table with a grim grey cloth.

Simon Collinge sat down, unwinding his scarf from his neck and hooking it over the back of the chair. He looked around with what seemed to be a certain amusement, as at finding himself in such a place.

‘You comfortable – got everything you need?’ he asked, leaning towards her. ‘Here, let me pour you some water. The Claret will have to wait for another time!’

Katie smiled, though she had only the dimmest idea what he meant. Wasn’t it wine he was talking about? They started on their meal, eating from tinny-tasting forks. The food was not bad at all, Katie thought, realizing how hungry she was.

‘So,’ Simon said, while eating enthusiastically, ‘tell me some more about yourself. What d’you like to do – in your spare time, I mean? Are you keen on sport, for instance?’ He laid his knife and fork down for a moment. ‘I’m a keen golfer myself. Nothing like it . . .’

‘Oh, I’ve heard it’s very enjoyable,’ Katie said. She tried desperately to think of any sporting interest she might have or suddenly acquire, but nothing came to her. The last thing like that she had done was in her school gymslip, and then only under sufferance. I like reading was all she could think of. But she didn’t need to say anything and sat back, relieved, as Simon chatted away amiably.