‘That’s fine. I’ll sit ’ere a minute with the bags while you buy your magazines.’

‘Thank you. I won’t be long.’

Ivan smiled. His Miss Queenie could take as long as she wanted.

Ivan opened the passenger side of the truck. ‘There you go, Miss Queenie.’

Having kept Ivan’s present separate to all the others, Queenie waited until he was seated before handing it to him. ‘I bought you a gift. Open it.’ The lady in the shop had kindly wrapped the dart flights in tissue paper for her.

Ivan could not believe his luck. No woman had ever bought him a present before, not even his own mother. ‘I loves them. I needed a new set too. One of mine is split. How did you know I play darts?’

‘Because I remember you telling me you play in the pub.’

‘This is the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me, Miss Queenie. I will treasure them,’ beamed Ivan.

‘It’s just a little thank you for driving me and Viv into town all the time, that’s all. I reckon we’ll be going back to the East End soon. I got a letter from my mum earlier. There’s been no bombs dropped for over a fortnight now.’

Ivan grabbed Queenie’s hand. ‘I don’t want you to go, Miss Queenie. Why don’t you stay ’ere with me?’

Thinking Ivan was joking, Queenie laughed and snatched her hand away. ‘As if! I honestly cannot wait to get home, see my family and friends. I’ve missed them all so much.’

Ivan’s eyes clouded over. Why was she laughing at him and saying these things? He didn’t like that. Not one little bit.

‘Where you going, Ivan? Isn’t the Briggs’ farm straight on?’

‘Yes. But I thought you might like to see where I live.’

‘Erm, I would another time. But I think I should be getting back now. I need to see if my sister’s OK,’ said Queenie, beginning to feel the first stirrings of unease. When he carried on driving away from the Briggs’ farm, she became more insistent: ‘Please take me back now, I just want to go home.’

‘It won’t take long. I thought you liked me, Queenie. But it seems you’re like all the others. You laugh at me and can’t wait to get away from me. Just like my mum and sisters.’

It struck her that Ivan had been unusually quiet on the way home, as if he was sulking. There was a difference in his tone, too, and in the way he’d used her name, whereas in the past he’d always addressed her as ‘Miss Queenie’. ‘I do like you, Ivan. You’re my friend. But please take me back to the farm now. Viv and me will both visit you when Viv’s feeling better. I promise,’ Queenie replied.

‘No point turning back. We’re ’ere now.’

They’d come to the end of the dirt track and in front of them was a grubby caravan, standing in a field with no houses or buildings in sight.