I think Roy decided it was the shame holding us back. His upbringing had been far more religious than mine; he was brought up Baptist, he told me, and his family went to church for three hours every single Sunday. His mother didn’t believe women should work outside the home, so he’d told her about me but said we’d met at a dance rather than at work. He wanted me to take him to meet my parents, and I changed the subject when he asked until finally he took my hands and held them, saying, ‘Are you ashamed of me?’

I shook my head. ‘It’s more them I’m ashamed of.’

‘Come on, they can’t be that bad. They made you.’

I had seen Mum and Dad, of course, since I moved out. Nearly every week I went for Sunday lunch. Afterwards we’d sit in the lounge room, making strained conversation like strangers, the one thing we never spoke of muffling everything else we said.

So, with just over a month until Roy left for New Guinea, I rang Mum from work while most of the other girls were on their lunch break. There was one telephone for an office of typists. I knew I had to be quick. I couldn’t ring Mum directly, because she and Dad didn’t have a phone: I had to ring Mrs Thompson and answer all of her questions about work and whether I was liking it and how my typing speed was going and then wait while she went and fetched Mum from next door. I felt guilty for my impatience when Mum came on the line, breathing heavily from her rush to get to me.

‘Sarah, love, I’ve been hoping you’d ring. Your brother Fred sent a letter. He’s been shot, but it’s the leg, thank God. He’ll be home soon, maybe next week. The knee, he says. Fractured his kneecap.’

‘Oh, Mum.’

‘I know, but he’ll be safe here. Thank God it’s just his leg.’

‘Oh, Mum.’ I was trying not to cry but the tears were coming already. ‘I can’t talk long, Mum, someone’s waiting for the phone, but I’m glad he’s going to be home.’

‘You’ll come to lunch next Sunday? He may be here.’

‘That’s what I was going to say. There’s someone I’d like to bring—his name’s Roy.’

‘Yes, of course, bring him. Bring anyone you want.’

‘He’s American.’

I could hear her sigh, and a click on the line as one of the operators from the exchange picked up.

‘See you on Sunday, Mum.’

‘Bye, love.’