‘February. Can’t invade now. They’ve got to wait for the good weather. May the fifteenth,’ said Corporal Warne. ‘You wait and see. May the fifteenth.’

‘Well,’ said Corporal Meadows. ‘Sooner done, sooner finished. Roll on the peace.’

‘Amen,’ said Corporal Warne. ‘Let’s eat.’

They picked their way through the crowds, enjoying the festive air of the streets. It was just like home, all this; the hubbub of voices, the hawkers in the gutter, the young couples with their shopping bags, so happy to be walking together arm-in-arm after the lonely week, the gay colours of carrots and cabbages and beetroots heaped in the greengrocers’, the neat pyramids of brightly-labelled tins in the windows of the provision shops.

It was early in the afternoon but there were queues outside the cinemas already. The concrete paths that intersected the broad lawns around the Town Hall were lined with girls waiting for soldiers and soldiers waiting for girls, and blocked every few yards by groups of soldiers and girls crowding noisily together. Soldiers were waiting in line outside overcrowded restaurants and overflowing canteens, and leaning patiently against the doors of public houses. The great Army lorries came snorting into town, each with another cargo of soldiers; and in every street pedestrians scurried and scuttled out of the path of hurtling jeeps piloted by somnolent Americans.

The two corporals made their way down a quiet side turning near the waterfront and entered a small, shabby restaurant.

The place was almost full but one glass-topped table in the warm corner of the room near the kitchen was unoccupied, the chairs tipped forward against it.

The corporals made themselves comfortable at the table.

A waitress appeared, a thin pleasant girl in her late twenties.

‘They’re here, Phyl,’ she called into the kitchen, and came to the table. ‘We kept your table for you.’

‘Hello, Dinah,’ said Corporal Meadows. ‘Hello, Phyl.’ The second waitress appeared, plump and thirty, gleaming black eyelashes, cheeks raddled with powder, strong legs in shabby stockings.

‘Any ham left?’ asked Corporal Meadows. ‘You kept some for us, didn’t you?’

Phyllis ran for the ham, while Dinah set out plates and bread and tea things. The corporals began to eat concentratedly while the girls stood doting over them. At other tables people rapped with spoons and grumbled and waited and went unserved.

‘I bet you had a terrible week,’ said Phyl, ‘with all that weather.’

‘Ah,’ said Corporal Warne, his mouth full. ‘Where’s the sugar, lass?’ She ran for the sugar.

‘What about some pastries?’ said Corporal Meadows. Dinah vanished and returned with some pastries.

‘Are you going back tonight?’ asked Phyl. ‘Or are you in town for the weekend?’

‘Going back tonight,’ said Corporal Meadows, lifting the last shreds of ham on his knife. ‘More tea?’

She poured the tea.

‘We’ll meet you when you’ve finished,’ said Corporal Warne. ‘Six o’clock?’

‘Six o’clock.’