‘The first person to laugh has to forfeit one article of clothing,’ I said, immediately erupting into giggles.

‘Right,’ Angus said. ‘That’s you for a start. And the second rule is that the other person has to take it off for them.’

We didn’t hold back on our laughter, struggling slightly hysterically with buttons and fastenings until Angus said, ‘The only thing you’ve got left now is your specs.’

He lifted them slowly from my face, serious now, his grey eyes close to mine. His excitement was evident and I felt suddenly awed by it, by the responsibility each of us had for the other’s happiness.

‘I’ve missed you. I’ve wanted you so much.’

Our lovemaking that night was the least reserved I ever remember it. A fierce combination of need, fear and passion, not mindful of what was proper or permissible, only what was strong and right. He stayed out of me for a long time, not wanting to give himself up to it too soon, and we knelt together in the firelight, fingers on each other’s skin. The tautness of his mood excited me, his eyes closed, breathing me in, touching every part of me.

We lay together, then, on the blanket as the fire faded. I could see only the closest things: Angus’s face, his dark hair, chest pink in the light and the shape of my breasts falling heavily to one side as I lay beside him. He ran his hand very softly along my side, again and again, thigh, hips, waist, ribs, following the deep curves. He closed his eyes. Eventually we moved to make ourselves comfortable on the bed, lying tucked tightly together.

I woke later in the night to find him moving beside me, slight shifting movements of his head and limbs too controlled and conscious for sleep.

‘Angus?’

Silence at first, then his voice: ‘I think I’m going to die.’

Swiftly I turned over. ‘Don’t. Please don’t.’ I could see only the faint outline of his face. I held him close to me.

‘We don’t talk about it – none of us. Best not to. It’s not the done thing. You can’t function if you think about it, so we joke about collecting scores, flying aces and all that. None of my squadron have seen much in the way of real action of course, but we’ve heard enough.’

Silently I listened, my arm crooked across his flat stomach. He spoke quietly into the darkness, in an even voice.

‘You can’t say the obvious, can’t share it. I’m shit scared. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave you, Katie.’

Our arms tightened round each other.

‘My darling, I love you,’ I told him helplessly. ‘I love you so much.’ We slept, clinging as if afraid that the other might slip away.

That room has stayed with me always. Waking the next morning: the white bowl and pitcher on the chest of drawers, powder-blue wallpaper with trailing pink roses, the pink eiderdown with satin finish, sun through that window overlooking fields. And the shadows of the place round us the evening before, the firelight: Angus’s face.