‘I’m exhausted!’ he would laugh, holding her away. ‘You’ve got the body of a little boy and the voracious appetite of a dancer who’s totally aware of her own body…not to mention mine! I’ll have a heart attack.’

‘No you won’t. You’re too young!’

‘I’m getting older by the minute!’ He swung her under him.

‘I don’t think you fancy me, you want a woman with large breasts and child-bearing hips!’

‘So why did I marry you, youngster?’

‘Tell me why you married me?’

‘Because your dad has a wonderful sailing boat?’

‘Wrong answer.’

‘Well, it must be that I married you because I love you to bits and because I cannot imagine ever wanting to be with any other woman but you, Fleury.’

‘Is that really true?’ she whispered, thrilled.

He laughed and kissed her nose. ‘Of course it is.’

But she had seen something sad or wistful in his eyes for a second, as if he knew she was going to ask for more than he was able to give.

Fleur reassured herself in the following months, ensconced happily in army quarters with lots of other young wives, all complaining in a good-natured way that their men could not talk about anything but aeroplanes. She told herself that it must be his new job; that he’d only just got his wings; that he had to prove himself flying. The fact remained, and she buried it mostly, because she was so happy and David was fun, life was fun…the fact remained that David did not want to make love to her as much as she wanted to make love to him.

When he did it was as lovely as ever, but he had rebuffed her very gently a couple of times and it had cut her to the bone. He knew, and was immensely attentive to make up for it, but Fleur realised instinctively her neediness would put him off. She felt almost ashamed of her body and how she felt about him.

When she backed off it was better. He would initiate their love-making. But Fleur learnt in those first few months of marriage that his sexual appetite for her was much less acute than hers for him.

She read magazines: she knew it happened sometimes. People’s appetites were different. It wasn’t as if he never slept with her. But supposing, and this niggled at her, it was chemistry, and he loved her but she just did not arouse him in the right way, the way he dramatically aroused her.

It seemed at nineteen such a terrifying thought, because she could not change herself physically. But she could grow up: she would try to be more aloof and sexy, more sophisticated…more…mysterious.

Fleur could not be unhappy. Her days were carefree and effortlessly spent with the other young wives, thrown together and having fun. There was tennis and endless parties or dinners in each other’s houses. Those without children roamed around Salisbury together, shopping or going to films.

The men relaxed on their three-year secondment to the Air Corps; the atmosphere was less stuffy away from their regiments. The wives were all of an age, all young, and their lives stretched ahead of them.