‘Gwen I—’

‘You cannot stay, Jack.’

The light fades from his eyes. ‘I suppose now Gordon’s no longer a threat you’ve no need of me …’

‘It’s not that – don’t you see? I can’t let you take the risk. Your coming back was never part of the plan, Jack. If you survived the war you were supposed to get as far away as you could … to be safe.’ She does not want to let him go, not when she has just found him, discovered him in a way she never thought possible. But he has sacrificed so much for her, letting him go is the greatest kindness she can do for him now, regardless of what it might cost her. The time has come for him to safeguard himself, not her. ‘What if they find you, Jack? What if the Helvedon police have already shared your details and right now detectives are on their way down from Newcastle to—’

‘Gwen—’

‘I can’t let you risk everything for us, Jack. If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.’

‘Why?’

‘What?’

‘Why do you care what happens to me?’

‘Because …’ She closes her eyes. The truth of it all finally dawns on her. ‘Because I love you.’

He does not answer at once. She stands before him, her heart exposed, and yet she does not feel vulnerable. She feels only regret that it has taken her until now to truly know herself. It is knowledge that has come too late.

‘Gwen … There is something I’ve been wanting to tell you, but somehow I could never find the right moment.’ Jack cups her face and Gwen cannot stop herself from leaning into his palm. He smiles, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. The touch feels magical. ‘Now is that moment …’

French coast, 6th June 1944

Jack stood at the ship’s rail in the early morning light, contemplating what the new day would bring. He was just one of hundreds wearing full battledress crammed upon the deck of the troop carrier. The time had come. The churning sea was crowded with vessels – minesweepers, frigates, battleships and destroyers, ships of all shapes and sizes as far as the eye could see – all destined for the golden beaches of Normandy looming ominously before them.

Craning his neck he could just make out the plumes of smoke rising beyond the silver barrage balloons that hovered over the ships ahead. The men ducked as an aircraft screamed over them. The cry of ‘One of ours, boys!’ was met with a muted cheer and a collective sigh of relief.

A few soldiers crouched together playing cards, while others stared out to the horizon, green-gilled and pale, their bleached lips moving in silent prayer. The man next to him nudged Jack with his elbow. He offered an open cigarette packet. Jack shook his head.

‘Might be your last chance of a fag for a while, mate.’

‘I don’t smoke.’