Emma was on her way back to her barracks after flying missions one night in January, when she saw a familiar figure walk toward her. He was wearing an RAF uniform, but she wasn’t sure who it was at first. And then she saw that it was Max, Pru’s older brother. She was surprised to see him. He smiled as he got closer, and he was carrying something. It was a cold night, and she’d had a hard time keeping the men warm on her last flight back. Her bright red hair was sticking up, and he looked happy to see her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, smiling.

“I was looking for you.” Being there made him feel guilty that he hadn’t visited Pru more often. Now he wished he had.

“Do you want to come in for a cup of tea, or go to the pub?” she suggested.

He looked pleased at the prospect. “A glass of wine might be nice. Have you got time?”

“I just finished. I’m free for the night.”

They walked swiftly toward the pub in the cold night air and were happy to find it warm and inviting, with a blazing fire in the hearth. They found a small table and he ordered a glass of red wine for each of them.

“What brings you here?” she asked him.

“My mother asked me to give you this.” He handed her his sister’s journal, and Emma looked surprised. “She said there’s so much of the two of you in here, she thought you should have it.” Emma’s eyes lit up at the kind gesture. She had sent Lady Pommery a note, thanking her for inviting her to stay on Christmas Eve.

“That’s so nice of her.” She tucked it into the bag she was carrying and couldn’t wait to read it again. She had missed it. The way Pru described things with her keen eye and dry wit brought her back to life. He had felt that way too when he read it.

“So, what have you been up to?” he asked after they each took a sip of the wine.

“Flying men back from the battlefield. I’m so tired of the damn Germans. We got Paris back and they still won’t give up.”

“They will soon, we’re pounding them to bits every night,” Max said reassuringly.

“They’re pounding us too. Will it ever stop?”

“It will one day. And then what will you do?” he asked her.

“Sleep for about a month, and then I suppose I’ll go back to delivering babies in Poplar.”

“That must be rough,” he said.

“Not after the war. And I’m used to being a midwife in Poplar. Until they figure out what’s causing it, I have plenty of work.” He laughed.

“Do you enjoy it?”