In answer Olivia took out her sandwiches and handed them to the corporal, who wrinkled her nose as she looked at the pathetic offering. ‘Honestly!’ she tutted angrily. ‘How do they expect an army to march on this rubbish? Right. Choose a bed, then get yourselves down to the cookhouse. You can make your beds when you come back. I’ll take this,’ she held up the offending sandwich, ‘with me, by way of explanation should anyone ask why you’ve not sorted your billet out before getting something to eat.’

There was an enthusiastic murmur of thanks from the girls, then they all hastily chose their beds before heading en masse for the cookhouse.

‘I like Corporal Walker,’ Maude said as they joined the end of the queue a the counter.

‘Me too,’ Olivia agreed. ‘I’m glad she’s in charge. If that was Haughton he’d have told us to eat up and shut up. Let’s hope all the corps are as nice as Walker.’ Olivia was blissfully unaware that a corporal was sitting at the table beside the queue listening to every word she spoke.

‘Aha! The new recruits! Whilst I can’t speak for the others, I’d like to think I’m as nice as Corporal Walker, although not as pretty.’

Turning, Olivia saw a man around the same age as herself, with bright blue eyes, made all the more vibrant by his dark brown hair and thick black brows. He was grinning up at her.

After her last experience with a man presenting a friendly exterior, Olivia had reminded herself that even tigers smile. She stared icily back.

He swivelled in his chair to face her properly. ‘I take it you are here for balloon training?’

Olivia nodded stiffly. ‘We’ve come from RAF Chigwell, where we’ve been sewing balloons,’ she said, then added defensively, ‘so we’re not completely clueless.’

He raised his brow. ‘I’m sure you’re not, and for what it’s worth I’m a firm believer in getting to know your trade from the bottom up, as it were.’

Keen to call a halt to the conversation, Olivia turned to the woman serving behind the counter. ‘Any cheese and pickle?’ The woman nodded and handed over a sandwich. Olivia waited for Maude to choose hers before they found themselves a table. To her horror, the corporal used his foot to push the chair opposite his away from the table, gesturing for her to sit down.

Determined not to take him up on his offer, Olivia shook her head. ‘Thanks very much, but …’

The corporal leaned across the table, his hand outstretched. ‘I’m Corporal Ralph Stebbins. I’ll be instructing you for part of the course.’