‘Well, I’m listening,’ he said softly. ‘It’s no bad thing to talk.’ He sighed. ‘I wish I had someone to talk to sometimes. I’m finding command is a very lonely occupation.’

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Deep in his eyes there was anxiety. Suddenly, she understood the loneliness of his position and all its responsibilities. No wonder he often looked tired and seemed withdrawn.

She had lost a friend in Edith, for whom she would grieve, but Philip had lost several personnel in his charge and at least three aircraft, and his airfield had been shot to pieces. It was his responsibility to get his station operational as soon as possible. And there would undoubtedly be questions asked about whether correct procedures had been observed before and during the raid and, worst of all to face, whether anything could have been done that hadn’t been to minimize the damage.

She gulped the liquid in the glass. ‘I’m sorry, you must have lots to do, I’ll . . .’

He smiled, but it was a sad, forlorn smile. ‘That’s the better side of being in command. One can delegate, you know. I’ve done everything I can for the moment.’ His eyes clouded. ‘I need a few moments myself. Soon I shall have to write some very difficult letters.’

Of course, now there was no question of anyone on the station having any leave, except perhaps on compassionate grounds. And in all truthfulness, Kate could not say that going home to meet Danny fell into that category. But how she longed to lean her head against his shoulder and feel the comfort of his arms around her and tell him just how she felt, knowing he would understand completely.

Philip Trent, in his capacity as Station Commander, decided to attend the funerals of those who had been killed. Clearance was given for Edith’s body to be transported home to Nottingham, and the day before her funeral, Philip called Kate into his office.

‘I know it’s maybe not usual, but you’ve probably guessed I don’t always go by the rule-book.’ He grinned at her, and, at ease, she smiled back. ‘I want you to drive me to ACW Brownlow’s funeral tomorrow, so I was wondering if you’d like to attend the service too?’

‘Yes, I would. Thank you.’

He nodded. ‘This is where the – er – rule-book gets thrown out of the window. If your two friends would like to come along too, you have my permission to ask them. I can arrange for them to alter their shifts if necessary.’

‘Oh, thank you. I’m sure they would like to. The four of us had got quite close.’ She was almost surprised to hear herself voicing the fact that she looked upon Isobel Cartwright as a friend. But it was true – now.