‘But if it’s all a lie… I have no idea who you are, Jack. Who you really are. I mean, I know you’re a pilot. At least I think you’re a pilot. And are the planes carrying atomic bombs? And you’ve never told me anything about your family. And I don’t know if you’re playing around with other girls. It’s not fair.’

The tune came to an end and they were standing, facing each other. The band struck up another song but they stayed quite still.

‘You know,’ he said, stroking her wrist, ‘last night when you walked out, that was a bad day. We lost someone, that night. I mean truly lost. That’s why I was late. It wasn’t another girl. I swear to you.’

She swallowed. ‘But what about all the other lies, why can’t you tell me—’

‘None of it’s a lie. I wanna tell you—’

A girl tapped Jack on the shoulder. Bewildered, Verity realised it was Muriel with orangey-red lipstick and her blonde hair done up in curls, a dark green dress clinging to her hips and bosom.

‘Hello, soldier,’ said Muriel, her eyes fixed on Jack.

Verity forced herself to smile at her old friend, remembering the polka dot dress at the Midsummer dance and the way Muriel’s feet moved nimbly in her red shoes, while she had been clumsy and slow in that preposterous blue dress. ‘Hello, Muriel, how are you?’

‘Oh hello, Miss Frost, I didn’t recognise you without your glasses.’

Verity scowled. She rarely wore her glasses these days, only for studying.

‘Miss Frost? You two know each other?’ Jack wore an expression of surprise and discomfort. The three of them stood in an awkward circle until he broke it. ‘Let me get drinks.’

They both started to protest, but he moved swiftly to the bar, calling out, ‘Whisky sours for three!’

‘What about me, old boy, can I get one too?’ They all turned round and Verity felt herself flood with cold.

In front of them stood Peter, his hair plastered to his face with rain, dripping onto the dance floor in his long, waxed coat, his face a distorted picture of fury and love.

*

First breach of the sea wall, where the old ships’ channel leaves Wells channel for Holkham Staithe

They ate their tea and she didn’t mention it again or pressure him to stay in. After all, every Saturday was the same. Arthur never used to do his deliveries on Saturday afternoons as he always saw Verity, bothering away at the unbearable itch, and completed them later instead. Although he’d hardly seen her recently, his mother hadn’t noticed.