Beth’s heart sank into the pit of her stomach as she turned her head and saw Ralph, a smug smile etched on his lips. The last thing she wanted to do was thank him, but without appearing rude, she had no choice. ‘Thanks.’ The word caught in her throat, and as she walked away, she could hear Ralph telling Olivia that it had been a testing day and it didn’t matter. Knowing that her friend was wondering why Beth had been so short was one thing, but hearing Ralph blame it on the stress of the day rather than the truth was a different matter entirely. He was despicable, detestable, a liar and a fraud. Determined not to let his words upset her, she fought back the tears which threatened to fall once more. She would have to work something out, because she couldn’t stand to see Ralph acting holier than thou, when nothing could be further from the truth. No matter what he may say, it was he who tried to kiss Beth, not the other way round, and even though he and Olivia weren’t official, everyone knew it was only a matter of time.

Ralph sat on the train which would take him to London. Ever since leaving Shirehampton he had asked himself the same question. Why had he been so stupid? And each time he had come up with the same answer. Because he had been thinking with his loins rather than his head. He gazed glumly out of the rain-speckled window as they passed through a tunnel. If Beth were to tell Olivia of his actions, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Olivia wouldn’t want to see him again. He had worked hard to get her to trust him and he was certain that he was getting ever closer to her agreeing to be his belle.

So why risk everything for a quick fumble? Especially with Beth? He pictured her as she had sat next to him in the car, her face glistening with sweat, her lips swollen from the heat, and her chest … He screwed up his eyes, dismissing the image. He would have to keep his fingers crossed that Beth kept her promise to remain quiet, at least until he had a chance to slip a wedding ring on Olivia’s finger. After that it wouldn’t matter who she told, because it would be too late.

August 1942

Ted waited with nervous anticipation as the Waaf who had answered the telephone went to fetch Olivia. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say over and over until he had got it down pat, because a three-minute call wasn’t long, and he had a lot to get across. He had one chance to plead his case. If he didn’t use the right words, she might slam the phone down and refuse to speak to him ever again.