‘More time?’ Desire scrambled her brain.

‘I’m due to be posted next week,’ he said, nuzzling her ear. ‘Who knows when we’ll see each other again?’

‘Oh, Donald.’ This was a blow, she had to admit it. ‘Do you know where?’

‘This could be our last chance,’ he whispered. As he kissed her again, even more passionately, she felt herself weakening. ‘I’ve got the key to an empty hut. Come and spend the night with me.’

She didn’t exactly say yes, but allowed herself to be steered along the darkened paths, past her own hut and on into the night. This is it, she said to herself, heart pounding. The big moment.

They reached the empty hut, and Donald tried to turn the key in the lock.

‘Ruddy thing, I think it’s rusted,’ he said, shoving the door with his shoulder. He struggled some more with the key, took out his handkerchief for a better grip and, with two hands, gave it a strong wrench. The key broke, hitting the ground with a small clink. He cursed loudly and fell to his knees, scrabbling in the dark.

By the time he looked up, Kath was already walking away. Sobered by the chill in the air, she had realised that what she felt for Donald was not love, nor anything like it.

The following day, she replied to Vic’s letter. She’d been putting it off, wondering whether there was really any future in their friendship. She recalled their conversations with fondness, but it all felt so long ago. Their backgrounds could not be more different. He was older, more serious, shy and socially awkward. But was any of that an excuse not to meet him?

Dear Vic,

You guessed right, of course, about where I’m based.

Four weeks into technical training, my head is crammed full of facts and figures but I’m enjoying the learning and managing to have fun too. The more I learn and understand, the more I respect what you and your colleagues have been so busy working on. My biggest fear now is that I won’t be up to it and will end up failing and having to resign myself to slogging away at some menial task for the duration – not what I signed up for!

You are right about the buses, too. They go every two hours. It’d be lovely to explore the city with you. I get leave every other Sunday.

Fondest regards,

Kath

Dear Kath,

Great news. I’m so pleased we can meet. I can manage the Sunday after next (20th) if that works for you?

We could meet for coffee at the White Hart, say around eleven o’clock, and then spend the day exploring the city. I’d like to buy you lunch and if your bus runs late enough we could end with high tea. What a wonderful English institution that is. For a long time I thought the ‘high’ meant it was for posh people, or perhaps only served in places like a roof terrace. It took me a while to work out that besides the cuppa you also get the full spread of sandwiches and cakes!