So the four of us—Dot, me, Roy and his friend Bob—ended up in a milk bar near the Cross called the Liberty Bell. We all squeezed into a narrow booth, Dot and I on the inside seats. It was not the type of place I’d ever been, full of other GIs and not many women. The few women there were particularly loud and garishly made-up.

‘So this is where you boys go?’ Dot asked.

‘Best hamburgers we’ve found,’ Bob said. ‘I know the clientele is rough, but remember, ladies, we didn’t grow up here. We don’t know the city so well.’

‘Some excuse,’ Dot said. ‘Sarah didn’t grow up in Sydney either.’

Roy turned towards me. ‘You’re not a city girl?’

We ordered hamburgers and milkshakes and I told them about the dairy farm, and Roy told us about Virginia, where he was from, outside a place called Roanoke, where his dad farmed tobacco. Bob was from the east coast also, Massachusetts, and they told us about the different accents from various parts of the country.

‘Ours aren’t like that,’ I said. ‘I mean, some people say Queenslanders talk slow, and people from Victoria sound like Pommies, but most Australians sound the same.’

‘Yeah, but you guys have the funniest slang.’

I liked how Roy and Bob talked and joked with us like we were just people. They were lighthearted, easy to be around. Different. The local blokes only had conversations at the bar with their mates and clammed up when we walked in. I watched Dot throw her head back as she laughed at something Bob said. I felt keenly aware of Roy’s leg next to mine, his arm behind my back on the booth, grazing the edge of my shoulders when I leaned back. I could almost feel sparks from the touch, like when I scuffed across the rug in socks in winter. And the way he smelled, of clove and vetiver from the cologne he wore. He was nothing like Ellis or my brothers or Dad. It was a relief.

The boys paid the bill for our meal when we were done, even though Dot and I tried to pull out our purses, and the four of us walked back towards Oxford Street. I was on Roy’s arm now instead of Dot’s (he had crooked his elbow at me: ‘C’mon, chicken, grab a wing’), and he was making me laugh at all the dodgy clubs we passed and the drunken servicemen out on the streets. When he offered to walk me home and Bob said he would walk Dot, I raised my eyebrows at her, not sure whether we should agree. She gave me a secret little smile and a nod, and I walked towards my house with Roy.