Betty had never seen anything so posh. It wasn’t a polite word, posh, but sometimes no other word would do. John sat opposite her, his napkin tucked into his collar like a schoolboy. She wondered if she shouldn’t do the same with hers. It would be awful to spill gravy or worse down her best day frock. It had taken her a while to decide what to wear before she settled on her choice. Smart, but not flashy, bluestocking-ish with a hint of bohemian. It was red, after all, albeit a rusty red rather than a brash pillar-box. A stain would be too embarrassing. She picked up the napkin, and tucked it in.

She had suggested they meet at the restaurant.

‘I’m in town anyway,’ she’d said. This wasn’t quite true. She’d come in especially to meet him.

They’d shaken hands, and his palms were dry and soft. She’d confessed right away that she hadn’t walked all the way to Aldermaston, only to Chiswick really, which wasn’t far, but her father had wanted her home at Easter. Had demanded her presence, but she didn’t tell John that.

‘Just as well, though, given the weather on Easter Saturday. Chucked it down.’

‘That’s further than I went,’ he said. ‘And for much the same reasons.’

She wondered whether he was a mummy’s boy, tied up with apron strings. Was that why he was so anxious and unsure?

‘Your work misspelled your name,’ he said, after they’d sat down and ordered. ‘They put an “e” at the end of Betty, not a “y”.’

She looked across the table at him. He seemed nervy, fiddling with his fork, turning it over and over. She took a deep breath, even though she had said it often enough.

‘No they didn’t,’ she said. ‘That is my name.’

She smiled. Fib, she’d done it often enough, put him at his ease. ‘My parents called me after some Hollywood star or other.’ She looked up, straight at him. ‘I hate it. Betty’s much nicer.’

‘Bette Davis?’ he said. ‘She’s very glamorous.’ Betty felt the coarse grip of a blush colouring her face.

‘I rather like the name Bette,’ he went on. ‘It’s more unusual. Betty with a y seems very Home Counties. Godalming. Gymkhanas and all that.’

He raised an eyebrow, as if to say, Am I right? His eyes teased and a smiled edged his mouth.

‘Actually,’ she said, ‘Hatfield.’ He looked disappointed, as if his judgement was wrong, so she added, ‘At least, that’s where we ended up after the war.’ And wished she hadn’t said anything.

John thought for a moment, his forehead furrowed. ‘Everyone was on the move after the war.’