‘They gave me the rest of the afternoon off,’ he told us. ‘So I came round straight away.’

Gladys, charmed by him, actually simpered. She thought Douglas wonderful. ‘It’s a pity about his, well, you know, his leg,’ she’d say. ‘But he’s ever so handsome, isn’t he?’

Douglas was looking very spruce. Smart clothes were important to him, and I often teased him, saying he didn’t look seedy enough to be a reporter. His camera was, as ever, slung over one shoulder.

‘I’m so glad you were in,’ he said. ‘I thought you might have taken off somewhere for the day.’ Taking me by the shoulders he kissed me quickly on the cheek, and I felt myself blush. We so seldom touched each other or kissed. Covering his own uncertainty, he said, ‘Well – this is quite a day, isn’t it?’

We spent the evening pleasantly with Mummy and Gladys, Douglas and I telling them what we’d seen while we were out. Douglas went out to fetch an evening edition of the paper and we laughed together at the Mail’s assessment of Birmingham’s VE Day celebrations: ‘We are not much given to mass gaiety. We are gardeners, family men, artificers and very individualistic at that.’

‘Rather austere,’ I said. ‘Is that what you’d have written? I thought they were having a pretty jolly time out there myself.’

‘Yes, and I expect it’ll hot up tonight,’ Douglas said. ‘Perhaps I’ll go back in for a while . . . Would you think of coming too? We could take a tram in – they’ve got some of them dolled up.’

‘I think I’ve had enough for today,’ I said. ‘But thanks for the offer.’

I sensed from Douglas’s increasing silence as the evening wore on that he had something on his mind and that he would rather have been alone with me. The chance didn’t arise until he was leaving. We stood outside on the doorstep and he seemed reluctant to go.

‘Were you woken by the thunder last night?’ he asked.

‘Yes, of course. But it was nice to lie awake and think and take in the news.’

‘What were you thinking about?’ Sometimes he asked questions in a disconcertingly clinical way.

‘Oh, just the rest of my life.’ I tried to speak lightly.

‘Freedom!’ Douglas said exultantly. ‘A chance to move on at last. Get on to one of the nationals.’ He was silent for a moment, hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground. ‘That’s if I stand a chance, competing with all our heroes returning from the front.’ I felt sorry for him, for his bitter sense of separateness, of not measuring up.

‘Look.’ He turned to me, speaking fast and awkwardly. ‘I can’t carry on like this – not telling you how I feel about you.’

I pulled the front door closed behind me and stood against it.

‘I need to know whether you could ever feel anything for me. Sometimes it seems you do, and then . . .’ He hesitated. ‘You’ve got to face it, Katie. He’s not going to come back.’