‘It’s our boys,’ Vic said. ‘Bombers setting off on a raid.’

As they watched the deadly machinery of war gathering in the sky, the magic of that golden afternoon evaporated. In four hours it would be night-time over Germany, and the planes would unleash their cargo of high explosives onto enemy factories, army bases and airfields. Dozens, perhaps even hundreds or thousands of civilians, including women and children, would die, and some of those crews would not come home.

What if Mark was piloting one of those planes, even now disappearing into the haze? Kath shivered. Vic took off his jacket and placed it round her shoulders. She snuggled into it, enjoying its weight and warmth, the smell of him.

‘Come on, let’s go and have a cup of tea,’ he said.

‘Thank you for a lovely day, Vic,’ she said, as they walked back to the bus station. Holding hands somehow seemed to have become natural now. She’d noticed some of the townspeople giving second glances, and wondered why. It was only much later she realised that it would have been unusual to see a brown man hand in hand with a white girl. But what did she care? It was none of their business.

‘Would you like to do it again?’

‘Depends where I’m posted. I’ll know in two weeks.’

‘Any idea?’

‘Could be anywhere. But I hope there’s a bit of life to the place, at least.’

‘I suppose you’ve been enjoying Cranwell? Their dances are the stuff of RAF legend.’

‘I thought you hated dancing.’

‘I do, but I just can’t bear the thought of you having fun without me.’

‘Shall I lock myself into a nunnery, then?’

He laughed. ‘Yes, please. If you don’t mind.’

‘But I have my work to do.’

‘You can watch a diode screen in a habit and veil, surely?’

As they reached the bus station the bus rumbled into view, pulling to a halt with a sharp squeal of its brakes and a cloud of oily smoke.

He turned to her, putting a warm hand to her cheek. ‘It’s been wonderful to see you, Kath,’ he said. ‘You really are the best thing that’s happened to me in a very, very long time, you know. I hope we can meet again soon.’

‘I’ll write when I know where,’ she said. Other passengers were already getting on board.

This time it was a real kiss, combined sweetness and sorrow almost frightening in its intensity. This might be their last chance for a very long time.

As she climbed onto the bus she felt the loss of him already. Marcia crept along the gangway and took a seat next to her.

‘What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were coming to Lincoln today?’

‘Buying these.’ Marcia pulled from a carrier bag a smart woollen scarf and leather gloves. ‘Ready for winter. How was your date, by the way?’

‘Date?’

‘Spies are everywhere, don’t you know? You didn’t let on that your beau was an Indian prince. How terribly exotic.’