Afterwards they sat on the beach, drying off. She wiggled her toes, he wiggled his in response. ‘I’ve just noticed you’ve got pink soles,’ she said. ‘Like your pink palms.’

He loved her guileless honesty, the way she said exactly what she was thinking. ‘That’s because the brown rubs off, you know.’

She gaped at him for a second, and then, ‘Don’t tease. How am I supposed to know?’ She exaggerated her accent, ‘When oi’m just a silly Suffolk lass?’

‘You’re so much more than that, Kath.’

And then, out of the blue, she said, ‘I got that leaflet about the WAAF. From the post office.’

His heart seemed to contract. ‘And?’

‘I’m torn. I want to do something useful, but I don’t want to end up working in catering again, or driving lorries, and it seems you don’t really get a choice. Plus, I’m not sure about leaving home. My brother’s already gone. He joined the RAF, you know?’

‘You mentioned it.’

‘He’s training to be a pilot. Ma’s worried enough about him. If I went too, she’d be devastated.’

‘I’d miss you too.’ It was the truth, although he’d never imagined himself admitting it.

‘You’re such a sweet man, Vic. As your reward . . .’ She looked into her bag and produced two slices of chocolate sponge. ‘Sorry it’s not your favourite. There wasn’t any carrot cake left over.’

He took a bite. ‘Mmm. Delicious.’

She smiled. ‘You only love me for my cake.’

‘Not true,’ he said. ‘I love you for . . .’

‘Go on.’ She nudged him with an elbow.

‘Everything about you,’ he managed.

She snuggled her arm into his, resting her head on his collarbone. Their bodies seemed to fit perfectly. Surely this was the sign he’d been waiting for?

‘Kath . . .?’ The words stuck in his throat.

She waited, quietly.

‘Would you mind if I kissed you?’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’ She turned her face to his, and he bent down to hers so that their lips touched, oh so briefly, before a loud holler from the Cliff Walk above made them both jump.

‘Go, Romeo, go!’

‘Kiss, kiss, kiss.’

‘Woo-hoo!’

‘Christ, it’s those bloody engineers. I’m so sorry.’

But Kath didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. She laughed and stood up, shouting at them: ‘Go away, you idiots, we’re busy.’ Then she sat down again, took his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips for a long minute. There were more whistles and catcalls, but Vic didn’t care.

When they’d finished, his head was spinning. It was just a pressing of closed lips, the most innocent kind of kiss imaginable, and yet the feel of that gentle imprint would stay with him for a very long time.

17

On the first of September 1939, Mr Brunetti called the kitchen staff to a meeting at the end of the day. His usually animated face was grave.