‘He makes me think of things. You know. Such as questions about whether it’s right that the Church are telling us to go ahead and kill. Archdeacon Basil Wilberforce, chaplain to the Speaker of the House of Commons, declared that to kill Germans was a “divine service”. The Bishop of Durham has spoken about the “holiness of patriotism”. Yet both sides are praying to the same God. It’s so confusing.’ Ava’s mouth hung open, her face a faintly mocking caricature of shock. ‘I do read!’ Vivian assured her, continuing despite Ava’s teasing. ‘I mean, did anyone think this through? I’m not sure they did. Certainly the people I know seemed to be caught off guard. The storm rolled in quite unexpectedly. We were all so very wrapped up in our love affairs, our careers, our babies. Those who did try to warn us and prepare were dismissed as crackpots or zealots.’

‘Well, well, well, Vivi, I do believe you’ve become radical.’

‘Would it be so bad?’

‘No, not at all. But I can’t agree with you. I’m all for the war. It’s not that I’m the slightest bit interested in all that patriarchal guff, but I do like a man in a uniform.’

‘Oh, Ava.’ Vivian grinned; it was hard not to. It sometimes seemed that her friend refused to be serious for two minutes in a row; on the other hand, Vivian had a sense that at the root Ava was eternally serious, which was why her next comment was so disconcerting.

‘I understand. He’s a lover, not a fighter, your man.’

‘He’s not my man.’

‘Isn’t he?’

‘You must stop calling him that.’ She knew she sounded irritated.

‘I wouldn’t blame you. Not one little bit. I wonder what he does for sex?’

‘What an extraordinary thing to wonder.’ Vivian found she could no longer look at him. She turned away from the window, rested her bottom on the ledge.

‘Is it? I think it is a perfectly commonplace thing to ponder. He isn’t fighting, but he is still a man. Beautiful, hungry, lustful.’ Vivian felt the words deep in her own body. Between her legs, in her head, under her breastplate. ‘Do you think there is an obliging girl in the village who is prepared to forget he’s a conchie because he’s simply delicious?’

The thought was distasteful to Vivian, upsetting. ‘I can’t believe you think about such things, let alone talk about them.’

‘I speculate on that sort of thing all the time, about everyone. At least everyone who is young and gorgeous. What are all the wives doing for sex now the men are away? What are you doing?’

‘I can do very well without it, thank you.’

‘Can you really? I can’t at all.’

‘Ava!’ Vivian knew she was colouring but she didn’t know if it was because she was embarrassed or vexed.

‘Have I shocked you, darling? I do apologise. I am so truly modern. Things are very different now, because of the war, don’t you think? No one is going to bundle me into a marriage just because I fancy a man.’ Ava shrugged, not entirely unsympathetically. ‘Sorry. No offence.’