She collected the tip from a table by the door – more silver than copper at this time of year – and re-laid it quickly for a party of four young men in naval uniforms. They were in high spirits, full of their plans for Christmas and the girls they were going to spend it with, and she dealt with their flirting as efficiently as she handled their order. It came naturally to her to be nice, and she always smiled when she remembered the manageress telling her at her interview that a pleasant personality was more important than good looks. She had taken the back-handed compliment in the spirit it was meant, and it turned out to be true: she hadn’t been short of offers, although she’d vowed never to do anything as predictable as falling for one of her customers. It wasn’t the first time she’d been wrong. 35

A queue built steadily at the door, and she was far too busy running to and from the kitchen to see Johnny arrive. By the time she noticed him, he was already seated at a table next to the Christmas tree which had had a reserved sign on it all morning. He grinned when he caught her eye, pleased to have surprised her, and she thought how nice he looked – smarter than usual in the better of his two suits, with a tie that she hadn’t seen before and diligently polished shoes. Instinctively, she straightened her cap, glad that she’d found a minute to comb her hair between orders. ‘Got time to join me?’ he asked, when his turn to be served finally came.

‘Are you mad? It’s the busiest part of the day. I’ll be flat out for the next hour and a half.’

‘It’s all right, Violet – you can take your lunch break early today. The girls will cover for you.’

Violet turned round and looked at her manageress in surprise. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Ridley, I didn’t know he was coming …’

Her apologies were waved away. ‘Go on. Don’t keep the poor man waiting. I can’t spare you all afternoon.’

‘Of course not. Thank you, Mrs Ridley.’

‘You can fetch your own lunch, though. I’m not made of festive spirit.’

Violet nodded and turned back to the table, but not before she’d noticed her colleagues nudging each other. ‘Johnny Soper, what the hell are you playing at?’ she whispered. ‘You’ll get me the sack, and a fine bloody Christmas present that’ll be.’

‘You won’t get the sack. You’re entitled to a lunch hour, just like the rest of us.’ 36

He smiled again, and Violet wondered what he was up to; it was out of character for him to break any sort of rule. ‘All right then, but I can’t be long. What do you want?’

He knew the menu by heart and didn’t even bother to open it. ‘Sausage and mash, and I’ll have a coffee nut sundae, too. Let’s put the boat out, my treat. It is Christmas.’