‘Thank you. That was very thoughtful. Why has she left us alone?’

‘I . . .’

‘Does she want you to persuade me to fight? Has she sent in a pretty face to do the job that heavy boots couldn’t?’ He smiled. It was an easy, unaffected smile. The smile of someone who was always a step ahead.

‘No.’ Vivian felt colour rise in her cheeks. She was furious with herself for responding, but she couldn’t help it. It was not just that compliments were as scarce as silk stockings, and had been for years, but he was notably handsome. Quite disturbingly so. Such an odd thing for her to see in this bleak place and time, but she couldn’t fail to. She’d always been quite useless when resisting accomplished flirts. She tried to recover some dignity.

‘I think you should know, Mr Henderson, that I find you and your way of thinking rather cowardly.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes.’ His smile didn’t falter, which made her feel more awkward. Embarrassment quickly dissolved into something else. Irritation. She was incensed by his certainty.

‘And that’s what you’ve come here to tell me, is it?’

‘Quite repulsive,’ she appended meanly, and then to be sure she clarified, ‘You are quite repulsive.’ She felt ridiculous saying this, but believed she must. He didn’t look shocked or angry. Hurt. He looked disappointed. He was disappointed in her. It was unbelievable. It was insulting. Heat flamed through her body. ‘Why won’t you fight, Mr Henderson?’

‘I simply do not believe that the boys on the other side of the barbed wire are so different from the boys on our side. How are they different? The ones we are shooting at?’

‘They are the enemy.’

‘But they are not my enemy. I am for Europe, not just England. It seems so parochial to me to limit oneself to one’s country. Or even continent. I’m a man of this world, a global citizen if you like, and they are all my brothers: the French, the Germans, the Egyptians, even the chaps in Papua New Guinea, wherever that might be. I don’t think the men out there are wrong to be fighting if that’s what they believe; it’s simply not what I believe.’ His tone was assured, confident but not impassioned. She realised he must have repeated this particular argument dozens of times. He was somewhere close to listless. Dangerously close. She wondered whether he’d already given up. She couldn’t bear the thought. For Enid. For him.

‘They started it!’ She regretted that the last time she’d used this justification was to Nanny when she’d been scrapping with her brother and sisters following some minor wrongdoing: a stolen pencil, a shove or pinch. She also regretted that Mr Henderson seemed to know that the nursery was the best place for that particular line of argument. He grinned, playfully. Not acting anything like a man who might soon be facing the death penalty. He seemed unconcerned. Untouchable. She looked closely. At the centre of his oh-too-blue eyes was a dull, dead coal-black pupil. What had this man seen? What had snuffed out the light? ‘Don’t you feel at all compelled to do your duty?’ He looked at her as though she’d said something amusing. ‘Can’t you find your courage for your King and country?’ This time he let a laugh explode from his beautiful mouth. Not a heartfelt one, but a bitter bark.