Everything was heaped against us that summer of 1940. The Dutch had fallen, the Belgians capitulated, then Dunkirk and the advance into France. And the Italians took against us as well. The Channel saved us, and all those young men in their tiny planes. But at the time I wrote to Angus in July, the Battle of Britain was still beyond the horizon.

‘How small our personal concerns seem in the face of all this. But I miss you so much, my darling. Life here has been very busy, and I’m glad of it. It’s in the quiet moments that I long to see you and feel very low at the thought of how little we can be together. Brenda came in and found me actually hopping up and down with excitement when I got your letter about your leave next week! I’m certain she thought I was quite cuckoo. But I can’t wait to see you, my love.’

Angus had been moved from Cornwall to Cambridge.

‘I never thought I’d end up attending lectures at Clare College,’ he’d joked in his first letter from there. ‘That’s much more William’s sort of territory. But at least it’s taken some of the mystique out of it for me.’

After wringing out the dress, twisting it round and round into a tight snake, I went into the hot garden and hung it, the thin straight shape of my mother, on to the washing line. Then I tried to turn my attention to the vegetable patch. Mummy, in her gristly way, had dug out, single-handed, another long strip of bedding for vegetables in the place where we all used to play cricket, and radishes were growing roughly where we positioned our homemade crease. Angus, William, Livy . . . I had to hold on to each day for what it was. The future was too uncertain and frightening to think about. And what was precious about today was another of Livy’s frequent letters, to which I would reply as promptly myself, keeping the threads of our friendship alive. And today – today I was going to see Angus.

For about half an hour I stooped and squatted round the bed, tugging at groundsel and grass, my summer dress tucked round my legs. I pulled lettuce and carrots for lunch, then sat staring in a dazed way at the rows of spinach and beetroot. I heard the latch on the gate behind me and, turning, was on my feet in an instant and running to him.

‘Oh darling, my darling!’

‘Katie!’

Laughing, almost crying, I ran to him and we were in each other’s arms, pressed close, quiet at first, suddenly shy.

‘I’ve missed you so much,’ Angus said after we’d kissed. I touched his face with my fingers, seeing his eyes full of love.

‘You’ve still got your uniform on.’

‘I’ve just walked in. Went up to change and I saw you through the window tinkering with the weeding.’

I laughed. ‘My mind wasn’t exactly on the job!’ I looked at him in silence for a minute, then said seriously, ‘It is so wonderful to see you. I love you.’