Ivan smiled broadly. The farm was his life, that’s why he had such big muscles. His only other interest was the pub. Every night he’d go to his local for five or six pints. ‘That would be my pleasure. I will finish ’ere at twelve. You can help me with my jobs if you want?’ He’d given Queenie lessons in driving the tractor yesterday and liked the feel of her body next to his.

‘I don’t want to get my frock dirty and I haven’t had any breakfast yet. I’ll meet you at twelve.’

‘Miss Queenie, I think you’re forgetting something,’ grinned Ivan.

Queenie stood on tiptoes and pecked Ivan on his unshaven cheek. Ivan always reeked of sweat and wore the same clothes. He actually reminded her of home as he smelled like Stinkhouse Bridge. But he seemed pleasant and harmless, and she didn’t want to hurt the poor sod’s feelings, so she waited until he was out of sight before wiping her mouth with her hand.

The journey to the nearest town took about twenty minutes. Ivan drove a green truck and Queenie loved going out in it. Her father had never had a car, so being driven somewhere seemed ever so exciting and grown-up. ‘Have you got a girlfriend, Ivan?’ asked Queenie, politely trying to make conversation.

Ivan grinned. She obviously fancied him. She’d asked him only a couple of months ago if he had children and he’d told her he didn’t because he was yet to get married. ‘No, Miss Queenie. Not many women round ’ere to choose from, so I thought I’d bide my time until the right one came along,’ he winked.

Queenie smiled politely. Ivan was simple, that much was obvious. ‘Do you need anything in town?’

‘No. I shall just be your bag carrier. That’s what gentlemen do, Miss Queenie. They open doors for a lady and carry her bags.’

‘Ahh. You’re a sweet man, Ivan. I hope one day you meet a nice girlfriend.’

Even more positive that Queenie fancied him, Ivan grinned like a Cheshire cat. He’d never had a girlfriend in his life. It was about time his luck changed.

Queenie bought herself and Viv a new summer dress each, then spent ages choosing a book for her sister. She finally decided on The Railway Children by Edith Nesbit. Hoping now the bombing had stopped, they’d soon be going home, Queenie bought some thank you gifts for the Briggs: a pipe for John and a pair of slippers for Betty. She then decided to buy Ivan a small gift too. He’d been ever so kind running herself and Viv into town. Without him they’d never have got there, because John was always working and Betty didn’t drive.

Lastly, Queenie bought herself and her sister a pair of comfortable sandals. They only had wellies and shoes to wear, which were far too warm now the weather was hot.

‘I think I’m done now, Ivan. Oh, wait a minute, Viv asked for some magazines.’