Thursday was swing at the Troc, and Dot came over after work to get ready. She borrowed my blue-and-white belted dress with the full skirt and sweetheart neckline, and I wore a high-waisted red skirt with a short-sleeved black blouse. We polished our shoes and applied lipstick in front of the mirror. Dot had filled her brother’s flask with her dad’s rum and we sipped it, cringing as it burned our throats. It made me feel fearless, though, and warm in the cheeks, as if there was nothing in the world to worry about. I said goodbye to Mum without kissing her, so she couldn’t smell the rum on my breath. I’d been avoiding her and Dad all week.

I hadn’t seen Roy since I’d been short with him, but I felt suddenly certain he was going to be there, and we walked to the Troc with our skirts swishing against our legs, giddy with the freedom of being out. Inside it was full to the brim and our eyes stung from the smoke. The band played ‘Ain’t Misbehavin’’ and the dance floor was the only space where you weren’t crushed against a hundred other people. There were uniforms everywhere: Yanks and Aussies, even a few Brits. We squeezed closer to the stage on the edge of the dance floor and said no to shouted invitations to dance. I couldn’t see how we were going to find anyone we knew in that crush of people.

I was about to ask Dot if we could go outside for a minute when I felt a hand on my waist, and a voice in my ear said, ‘If it isn’t Sarah from down south.’

I spun around and there was Ellis, his black hair cut close, in the square-necked blue top and white trousers of the Australian navy. He was a head taller than me and his hand was now on my arm.

‘Hello!’ I shouted. ‘This is my friend Dot. Dot, this is Ellis—I went to school with him.’

‘Hi, Ellis,’ Dot shouted, then smiled sweetly. ‘I’ll keep looking for them, Sarah. You dance with your old friend.’

Ellis led me onto the dance floor and twirled me around a few times. He smelled like wet wool and wasn’t a great lead, but he was trying to talk as well. He told me—mouth against my ear—he had been in training and was just dying to get on a ship to where the action was. He asked about Fred and Jack, and I told him they were both in the Pacific. Jack had just left. That last I heard they were both safe. I told him where I was working, in the city, and he asked which friends we were meeting.

‘Some fellas from my office.’

‘Yanks?’

‘Yes. Really I’m here with Dot, though.’