I realised then that I didn’t actually know. There was so much I didn’t know about him. If he were a library, I would have only read a handful of the books.

‘You don’t know, do you?’

I shook my head, ashamed.

The waiter had come and taken away our plates, and now he brought a little slip of paper on a saucer. Jim reached into his pocket for his wallet. I had my purse, and I pulled it out as well, but he put his hand out.

‘Let me get this. I’ve just been paid. Burning a hole in my pocket.’ He grinned, counting out the bills, and it was a boy’s grin, absent of irony.

‘But the Red Cross has given me money for my meals. I have enough. I should know, shouldn’t I?’

‘What?’

‘What Roy thinks of things. Only it was so short. It all happened so fast. I hardly remember how he looks anymore. I don’t even know if I’ll recognise him when I see him.’

The waiter came and took the bills away and Jim looked at me. He had thick dark lashes.

‘It was like that, the war, wasn’t it?’ he said. ‘It made us do strange things.’

‘What did you do that was out of character?’

‘Let’s save that for our next meal. Will we meet for dinner at seven?’

‘Only if you let me pay for my own meal. I need to get used to the money here, what the bills and coins mean. Maybe you could explain it to me?’

Jim put out his hand. ‘Deal.’

I shook it, and it was warm and dry, and solid, and still, despite the unceasing movement of the train.

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 21

It’s so funny listening to Grandma speak, because I know this story is not about the food she ate on the train, but for me, right now, it is. The crisp bacon: I can feel it snap between my teeth. The juicy tomato. The creamy mayonnaise.