‘Whatever will become of us?’ she wailed. ‘And Mark, out there in his plane? Oh, I wish he’d just come home and get a safe, ordinary job.’

‘He may not have the choice, dearest,’ Pa said. ‘They’ll be calling all of us up before long.’

‘Not you, too? You’re too old, surely?’

‘Depends how desperate they are.’

And so the conversation went, round and round, until the doorbell rang and Pa went to answer it. Probably Joan, Kath thought.

‘There’s a man on the doorstep asking for Kath,’ he called.

‘Hello there.’ She looked down at Vic’s suitcase. ‘Are you moving in?’

Confusion flooded his face. ‘Mr Brunetti gave me your address. I hope you don’t mind,’ he said, shuffling his feet. ‘We’re all being evacuated. I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.’

‘Sorry, I was just being silly,’ she said, blushing. ‘We’ve all been laid off, too. It’s lovely of you to find me. Will you come in?’

He checked his watch. ‘Sorry, my train goes at three. I’m not sure there’s time.’

‘Then I’ll walk to the station with you.’ It was all so sudden. ‘Let me get my jacket.’

They walked in silence at first. What was there to say? They were not officially girlfriend and boyfriend, and they would probably never see each other again. They rounded the corner, and the station came in sight.

‘Do you know . . .’ she said, and at the same time he started: ‘I hope you . . .’

‘You first,’ she said, laughing.

He paused, then, ‘I don’t want to leave you, now we’ve just met.’

‘Me neither, but we can write, can’t we?’

His face brightened. ‘You’d like to? That’d mean a lot.’

‘Do you know where you’re going?’

‘Not yet, but I’ve got your address now, so I’ll write just as soon as I know.’

The train was steaming up, and the clock above the platform read nearly three o’clock. ‘You’d better get on board.’

He took her hand, lifting it to his lips like an old-fashioned gentleman.

‘I’ll miss you, Kath.’

‘Me too,’ she said. ‘Here, take this.’ She pressed into his hand a small paper bag containing two pieces of the carrot cake she’d baked over the weekend.

‘Is this what I think it is?’

She nodded.

His face, so serious until now, melted into the sweetest smile. At the other end of the platform, she could see the stationmaster lifting the whistle to his lips.

Vic climbed on board and leaned out of the window, waving until the train went around the curve and out of sight. It was only then that Kath realised that she was standing in precisely the same place where she’d first met him. She hoped it wouldn’t be the last time.

October 1939

Dear Kath,

I hope you are well and pray you and your family are all safe. Please write soon and reassure me.

I’ve just written ‘pray’ although of course I don’t ever really do that in the formal sense. Apart from anything else, my mixed background leaves me confused about who to pray to: the single Christian god, or the several dozen of the Hindu type, each of which has several forms? My favourite is the elephant god, Ganesh, who is famous for removing obstacles. Elephants are immensely strong and used for heavy lifting, so that makes sense. He’s also the patron saint of letters, which is slightly odder, since although they are fabled to be wise and have very long memories I’ve never met an elephant who could wield a pen in his trunk, but I shall dedicate this one to him all the same.