I do hope you’re not overworking and burning yourself out with all your duties. Do remember to let up sometimes won’t you?!

Just dashing this off – must finish now. There’ll be a lot of disappointed faces at the dance tonight if I don’t turn up!

All love for now. Olivia.

After several letters like this I felt pretty browned off with her, and not just because her writing to me was so rare when I’d been making an effort to write regularly, but because the tone of them was always similar to this one. It didn’t strike me then that anything was wrong: I was just irritated by their shallowness. She felt so distant and it was as if we could no longer communicate about anything important.

Angus spent the Christmas of 1940 at home.

‘Oh, look at you!’ I greeted him, fingering the embroidered wings on his blue uniform. ‘A real airman!’

While he was home we announced to our families that we planned to marry.

‘We don’t feel we can plan a date,’ Angus explained to his mum and dad. ‘Not with things as they are. But as soon as I know I’m going to be back home . . .’

‘I can’t pretend I’m surprised,’ Ruth Harvey said, embracing me enthusiastically. ‘And I couldn’t be more delighted.’

Christmas slipped by far too quickly. Angus and I treated ourselves to one night away together, deciding not to worry what anyone thought. My parents couldn’t bring themselves to comment and Peter Harvey lent us his car. When we signed ourselves into a small country inn it was as Mr and Mrs Harvey. No doubt couples were doing something similar all over the country.

In the small restaurant we had a magnificent meal considering the time of year and strictures of rationing.

‘That’s the great thing about being in the country.’ I stared in wonder at the pheasant and generous helpings of vegetables on my plate. ‘And she said there’d be eggs for breakfast!’

‘Didn’t you see the chickens out at the back when we arrived?’ Angus said, smiling at my enthusiasm. ‘That’s what you really came for, wasn’t it – the food!’

‘Don’t be silly.’ I took his hand across the table. ‘But it’s all lovely.’

‘We don’t do badly for food. I think they give the services all the best.’

‘Well I’m glad they’re looking after you.’

We ordered a half bottle of wine and sat for a long time near the comforting fire in the inglenook, enjoying being with each other. Because my thoughts were often sad and questioning I didn’t want to voice them, and I sensed there were a lot of things that Angus was not saying, was keeping at bay. We sat quietly holding hands across the table, and when we did talk it was often about the past because it was safer.

‘D’you remember that day when your granny stripped off just as your mum was expecting all those parish bods round?’