‘Yes siree, Captain,’ Rupe agreed with a nod to Betty, ‘and all due thanks to this young lady.’

‘Indeed. Well played, Miss …?’

‘I’m Betty.’ Betty jumped up from the piano stool, hand outstretched. She’d heard all about the men’s commanding officers from Kasey. This was the nice bloke, the one who liked music, the other one was a right prick. ‘Betty Francis.’

‘How do you do, Betty.’

They shook and he introduced himself. ‘Captain Samuel Robinson,’ he said, thinking how amazingly confident the girl was for one so young. He turned to Kasey. ‘Another spot-on Gershwin rendition, Private,’ he said with a smile. Samuel had hugely enjoyed the impromptu entertainment aboard the Santa Clara, which had not unsurprisingly endeared him to his men.

‘Thank you, sir.’ Kasey returned the smile. ‘We do a lot of Gershwin, Betty and me. She knows them all. Don’t even need the sheet music.’

‘It’s Rupe’s turn now though,’ Betty interrupted, ‘I have to give Jilly a break at the bar. You don’t have a drink, Captain,’ she continued without drawing breath, ‘come and I’ll serve you, what’ll it be, a beer?’

‘Yes. Thank you.’ He followed her meekly.

Rupe took a seat at the piano and leaped straight into a lively version of ‘At the Woodchopper’s Ball’.

Upon arriving at the bar, Betty told Jill to take a break. ‘I know you’re dying to have a dance,’ she said, ‘and just look at Willie over there, he’s straining at the leash.’

Barely a minute later, as she delivered Samuel Robinson his beer, Betty was pleased to see that Jill and young Willie Parker were already throwing their bodies around on the minuscule dance floor. Willie had taught Jill to jitterbug just the previous week, and Jill, who adored to dance, was a very quick learner.

‘They’re good, aren’t they?’ she said, noting the strumming of the captain’s fingers on the bar top while he watched the dancers.

‘Eh? Oh, yes,’ Samuel agreed as she nodded in the direction of the dance floor, but he hadn’t really been watching the pair at all, he’d just been grooving to the beat. God he loved jazz.

‘So you heard we make beautiful music in this place?’

‘Sorry?’ he queried, unsure of what she’d said, he’d clocked out of his surrounds and on to the beat once again.

‘That’s what you said,’ she prompted, ‘that you’d heard we make beautiful music in this place.’

‘Yep, I sure did.’ The girl was interested in small talk so it was only polite to oblige. ‘And I must say I was delighted to discover the music’s been coming from our own Company C boys.’ He gave her a friendly smile. ‘Makes me feel darn proud.’

‘Yeah, Rupe and Kasey are talented all right.’ Betty could tell the captain didn’t really want to talk, but she didn’t care. She felt as though somehow she knew him – well, just a bit – from what Kasey had told her. This bloke was a jazz freak, Kasey had said, ‘Not a nigger hater like the other bastard,’ had been his exact words. ‘This guy really loves music. That makes him one of us, you know?’