Jill stood at the end of Kate’s bed, scrutinizing the kit laid out on it. ‘I should refold all your sheets and blankets for a start – they’re not very neat. Your greatcoat goes on top of them and your cap on top of that.’ She took a side-step and stood at the foot of Mavis’s bed. ‘Shoes go on the front row – soles uppermost.’

‘Oh, I’ll never get the hang of it,’ Mavis muttered.

‘Don’t worry, Mave,’ Jill said cheerfully, ‘neither will Kate by the way she’s juggling with her irons and toothbrush. Other way round, Kate. That’s it. Where’s your button stick? Oh, there it is. It should be on that same row.’

‘Seems okay now,’ Jill said when the two girls had reshuffled everything to her direction. ‘Can you both remember it for tomorrow morning?’

Mavis sighed. ‘Not a chance. What about you, Kate?’

‘I can remember all the main items, it’s the little fiddly things I can’t remember where they go.’

‘Well, if we do okay with the inspection we get the rest of the morning off,’ Jill told them and then spoilt the promise of some free time by adding, ‘to finish marking every item of kit!’

There were groans all round. ‘How do you know all about the lay-out then?’ Mavis asked. ‘Not that I’m not jolly thankful you do,’ she added, anxious not to offend.

Jill shrugged. ‘Older brother in the RAF,’ she explained. ‘He used to practise when he came home. I used to watch him and when the NCO was showing us earlier – well, it was a bit different naturally, but the basic idea seems to be the same.’

‘Right,’ Mavis said, shuffling all her items of kit into a big heap at the end of her bed. ‘Now I’ll have a go on my own.’

She began to lay everything out on the bed once more, from the sheets, blankets and bolster at the head of the bed, right down to the shoes – ‘Soles uppermost,’ Mavis muttered as she worked – at the foot.

Two hours later, just before lights out, Kate and even Mavis could finally lay out their kit perfectly.

After the first three days, it ail seemed to get easier. The girls were so friendly; they had so much to talk about because they all came from different places. It was nothing like that awful school, Kate thought. How could she have even thought it the same?

There had been only one occasion when she had been sharply reminded of Miss Denham. The NCO had suddenly said one day, ‘Hilton, your hair is too long . . .’

Kate had drawn in her breath sharply and held it, waiting for the dreadful sound of snipping scissors being brandished. She almost winced in anticipation.

‘But as long as you tie it back and keep it firmly under your cap . . .’