‘Better make the most of it, old girl,’ he replied.

Snuggling even closer, Sybil murmured, ‘We’ve so much catching up to do.’

She sighed irritably as the waitress returned with their drinks. Before he could flirt all over again, Sybil said sharply, ‘Just leave them on the table.’

Giving her a filthy look, the waitress laid down their full glasses, purposely slopping the contents on the table as she did so. Knocking back a good half of his pint of bitter, the Brigadier muttered through the froth on his lips, ‘Got plenty of business to attend to up here, ya know.’

Sybil gave a teasing smile. ‘Not that silly old requisition business?’

In reply Monty gave a curt nod. ‘Needs to be settled.’

‘Then I do hope you’ve decided to take over Mary Vale? It would so suit the Army’s needs,’ Sybil enthused.

Though he knew she spoke the truth, the Brigadier continued to rudely fob her off. ‘And what would you know about the Army’s needs?’ he scoffed.

‘I did used to work for you,’ she gently reminded him. ‘Remember, when I was your right-hand girl?’

‘Until you got knocked up,’ he crudely remarked.

Swallowing her pride, Sybil continued, ‘Matron, and everybody in the Home, is saying that we have a lot to thank you for.’

Gulping back what was left of his pint, the Brigadier guffawed. ‘Bloody Matron doesn’t know her arse from her elbow!’ he sneered. ‘Though the old girl did say that most of the residents, unlike you,’ he added witheringly, ‘consider themselves lucky to be there in the first place.’

Resisting the urge to shake Monty, Sybil counted to ten; she simply had to make this meeting work for her, and from the confrontational mood Monty was already in she would get nowhere fast if she challenged him. The arrival of the tiresome waitress with their food brought a smile to Monty’s face.

‘Now here’s a sight for sore eyes,’ he smarmed, as she set down their order in such a manner that Monty had a fine view of her full breasts, sensuously outlined by the sweetheart neckline of her clinging sweater.

‘There you are, sir, can I get you anything else?’ the waitress saucily enquired.

Seeing Monty’s wide eager smile, Sybil snapped, ‘That will be all, thank you.’

When she turned her attention to the fish pie steaming on the plate in front of her, Sybil’s stomach churned; not so with Monty, who eagerly tucked into his meat and potato pie. As the smell of fish overwhelmed her, Sybil struggled unsteadily to her feet.

‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she murmured as she hurried off to the ladies’ toilets, where she was violently sick.