Do let me know whether this is possible and I will make my arrangements around that. I am so looking forward to seeing you again. I miss our chats. I’m sure that the study won’t be as difficult as you fear and you’ll pass first time round.

Your friend,

Vic

22

As the bus approached and the three towers of Lincoln Cathedral came into view, white stone lit by the sunshine like sentinels against the flat countryside, Kath’s stomach fluttered with nerves.

It had been nearly three years since they’d last seen each other on the day after war broke out, and so much had happened since then. She felt like a completely different person, had travelled the breadth of the country, befriended – or at least found ways to get along with – people from all walks of life, learned so much about the war and the way it was being fought. She’d grown physically strong and mentally confident. Somehow, her uniform actually fitted properly these days and she even felt quite smart in it. The studies were going well.

Despite persistent questioning from Marcia, she’d admitted only to meeting ‘an old friend’; nevertheless, that morning Kath had been forced to submit to the full beauty treatment. Her hair had been rolled, dried and styled, her skin exfoliated and moisturised before the application of foundation, powder and eye make-up. She’d tried on three silk blouses before choosing the pale green – ‘matches your eyes’ – and she was wearing a pair of silk stockings and several dabs of Vol de Nuit perfume.

‘Well, look at you now, Kath, all grown up,’ she’d whispered to herself in the mirror. ‘I wonder if he’ll still like this new me?’ Then another, less welcome thought: three years had passed for Vic as well, three years of working with different people in different parts of the country. If I’m different, surely he’ll have changed too?

She need not have worried. As she entered the hotel lobby, she knew him instantly by the set of his shoulders and the shock of black hair. He turned, as though he’d known she was there even before she’d said a word, and smiled. It was awkward at first, and absurdly formal. They shook hands.

‘Kathleen Motts! Is it really you? You look wonderful.’

She laughed. ‘Did I look so awful before?’

Embarrassment clouded his face. ‘I’m sorry, I always seem to put my foot in it. It was meant as a compliment.’

‘I was only teasing,’ she said quickly. ‘Thank you for the compliment. I’ve got a friend who’s a whizz with hair and make-up.’

‘Then it’s my turn to be flattered. Now, what shall we have? Tea or coffee? Teacakes or biscuits?’

After that, conversation flowed so readily that it was easy to forget they’d ever been parted. When they’d finished tea, Vic suggested they go for a walk. Away from prying ears, they could talk more freely. She amused him with stories of her initial training and the postings in Whitstable and then Devon, and he described, in guarded language, the developments his new team had been making, initially in Dundee and then in Stanmore, expanding and refining the applications of radio direction finding. It felt so good to learn more about his research at last, now that she was part of the RDF ‘club’ and could actually understand the language. Well, some of it.