“You might have heard something in a letter.”

“What sort of something? All that we get is reams of stuff from the Ministry of Agriculture, and a few advertisements. I hear every week or so from my mother, and Donald, once in a way, from Dick . . .”

Sheila turned her innocent blue eyes to Gladys.

“Oh, Mr. Sheldon’s half-brother! How is he?”

“We haven’t heard for weeks. He generally writes to Barbara; she rings through if there’s any news.”

“If he were getting leave or anything like that, that would be exciting for you all, wouldn’t it?”

“More exciting for Barbara. It would only mean work as far as I’m concerned. If you ask me, it’s you to whom the exciting things happen. Had any more lifts from officers who asked you to tea?”

“Actually, no. I did go to the pictures yesterday, but while I was waiting for the bus a woman in khaki stopped and offered to take me in. I couldn’t very well say no.”

Gladys smiled.

“Bad luck! Very tactless of her.” She looked out of the window. “There’s the postman, be a dear and get the letters, and give him those two on the dresser to post.” The postman had brought only one letter. Sheila came back with it staring at it. Gladys glanced up. “Who’s it for?” Sheila raised her head, but her eyes were vacant; it was obvious she did not know she had been spoken to. Gladys laid down the knife in her hand, and came round the table and took the letter. It was from overseas, and had been censored before posting by the writer; his signature was on the envelope. Richard Trent. She caught Sheila’s chin in her hand and forced her face round. “You know Dick?”

Sheila heard that all right. She wriggled, but had to answer.

“Well, actually, yes.”

“When did you meet him?”

Sheila looked young and childish.

“You’ll think I’m mad, but I’m in love with him. It was love at first sight. It can happen. It’s because of him we’re here, really.”

Gladys struggled to make sense of this.

“You’re here because Janet worked in his office. He sent . . .”

Sheila shook her head.

“He didn’t. Janet doesn’t know that Dick is her Richard Trent.”

Gladys went back to her work.

“I’m getting hopelessly muddled. Suppose you tell me the story from the beginning.”

Sheila sat on the table.

“Well, Janet lost two pounds, and went to work in an awful flap. After she’d gone Mum found her note-case in a pocket. It was when there was bombing, and I’d left my office, and you couldn’t get through on the telephone to Janet, so Mum made me go and tell her. I oughtn’t to have gone really, for I wasn’t strong enough and might have fainted dead away at any minute.”