The smile he gave her as he waved goodbye stayed with her through the long night. She waved as he crossed the tarmac towards the huge bulk of the waiting aircraft. In the dusk she saw him raise his right arm in farewell.

Kate turned the bus around to drive Philip back to the control tower where they went up on to the roof to watch take-off. On clear, fine nights they would stay out in the open, only sheltering in the glass observation room if it were cold or wet.

As the engines of the sixteen Avro Manchesters burst into life and taxied out on to the runways, the ground seemed to vibrate with their throbbing; the whole world seemed filled with noise. They took off, labouring into the night sky, cumbersome with their weight of bombs. Then, for those left behind, came the long hours of dreadful waiting.

‘Take me back to my office, would you, Kate? I’ll try to get an hour or so shut-eye.’

As she pulled up outside the door of the building housing the CO’s office and was about to open her car door, she felt his hand on her arm.

‘Kate . . .’ he began, strangely hesitant. ‘Would it – would it compromise you too much if I were to ask you to come in and have a drink with me?’

She looked at him through the gloom. ‘No – of course not.’

She saw the gleam of his teeth as he smiled. ‘Come on, then,’ he whispered, gleefully conspiratorial.

‘Sit down,’ he invited, closing the door of his office and moving to the cabinet where he had a bottle and glasses stowed away. ‘I hate these hours when they’re away,’ he murmured. ‘And yet, it’s almost worse when they come back and you’re counting the aircraft, willing them all back safely and yet knowing . . .’

He left the rest of his sentence unsaid. Placing a drink before her, he sat down in his chair, taking off his cap and running his hand across his forehead, up and through his hair. He let out a deep sigh. ‘Oh, Kate, my dear girl, don’t get too involved with any of them, will you?’

Kate looked up, a sharp reply on her lips. What business was it of his what she did in her off-duty time? What right had he to give her such advice?

Her mouth set in a rebellious line, she said shortly, ‘I won’t.’

He sat twirling the glass, watching the swirling liquid. She heard him sigh deeply and then, deliberately changing the subject, he began to ask her about her home, the farm, her family; anything to steer their thoughts away from the squadron at this moment facing flak as they crossed the enemy coast. But not once during the hours they sat together through the long night did he mention his own life or family.