Being short of clothes, other than her uniform and a couple of day-outfits, Marjie wore the same costume she’d worn on the first day she’d met Wills. She’d discarded her jacket, and the flared skirt lent itself well to the dance movements of the waltz.

The wind was keen and tried its best to freeze them, but Marjie felt strangely warm, as if it were a summer night. Nothing could daunt her happiness as Wills held her close. She could feel every part of his strong body, and thrilled at his kisses as he muzzled her neck. ‘Marjie, oh, Marjie, I wish we could marry before you leave, but with the Christmas holidays, the offices are closed for a week and it isn’t possible to get a quick licence. Would you marry me, if I could do so?’

‘I’ll marry you right now, darling. Right here. We can say our vows to each other. In France, the bride and groom can say their own words, after the formal vows.’

The music had come to an end and, in the silence, they clung to each other. ‘Let’s do that, Marjie. I know what I want to say to you. But are you warm enough?’

‘I think, if we’re not dancing, I will need my jacket; and my scarf can act as my veil.’

They giggled again at this, and it felt to Marjie as if she was on a wonderful adventure.

‘You get your jacket, darling. Wilson will have put it on the coat stand on the landing. But hurry back.’

When Marjie returned, Wills had over his arm one of the net curtains that hung behind the room’s drapes. ‘Here you are, darling, you can use this as a veil. And this’ – as she took the veil, Wills plucked one of the beautiful silk lilies from the display that stood on a marble pedestal next to the grand piano – ‘can be your bouquet.’

‘And the ring?’

‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Look, it will be too big, but will you accept my father’s ring? My parents went to America before the war. An elderly aunt on my mother’s side, who emigrated there many years ago, was very ill, and Mother was fretting about her. It has been too dangerous for them to come back, and I am glad of that. I was already an officer, having passed out of Sandhurst, and of course there was a strong inkling that war might break out. My father didn’t want to leave, but he wouldn’t have been able to take part in active service, for he . . . well, he lost a leg in the last war.’

‘Oh, I am sorry, Wills.’