American scientists and engineers were assigned to each development team, and they had only weeks to make sure that all of their systems were co-ordinated. He didn’t take to them at all, at first. They were so loud, and so bossy, so certain their way was right. For a start, it seemed inevitable that they would have to adopt the new American term RADAR – for Radio Detection and Ranging – even though it just seemed like an overblown version of their own acronym.

The Yankee dollars were very welcome and their research budgets quadrupled overnight, but it took time to get used to each other’s way of working. The best way of dealing with them was as he’d done with other overly confident characters like Frank: let them have their big bluster first, getting it out of the way, after which he would quietly but insistently point out the flaws of their argument. It didn’t make him especially popular, that he knew from experience; but it earned him respect and, more importantly, it saved time.

The other trial, of course, was dealing with their questions about his origins. One of his teammates, Randy (short for Randolph, but Vic couldn’t trust himself to say it out loud for fear of sniggering like a schoolboy) said quite bluntly that he’d been surprised to find Vic working alongside ‘white folks’.

‘Back home, the blacks are segregated, even in the military.’

‘Segregated? You mean, kept apart by law?’ Vic was aghast.

Randy explained it was only in some states where seating on buses, schools, swimming pools and working areas in factories were divided into ‘black’ and ‘other’.

‘But why?’ Vic gasped.

‘Gee, it’s so normal I don’t really know why, and never asked. That’s the way it’s always been, so I guess folks feel more comfortable that way.’

‘White people feel more comfortable, you mean?’

His friend clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Aw, don’t take it amiss, Mac. It don’t make a bitty bit of difference between you an’ me, eh? It’s great working with you, chum.’

But for all the constant company, Vic was lonely.

Most of all, he missed Kath. That day in Lincoln glowed in his memory; his hand could still feel the imprint of hers as they’d walked together, and he could still taste the astonishing sensation of her lips meeting his as they’d waited for her bus. His heart seemed to ache in his chest when he thought of her, and he felt sure this must be what they called ‘falling in love’. But did she feel the same about him? He longed to see her again, to reassure himself.

By now, he felt sure, she would have had her post-training week’s leave in Felixstowe. With Lizzie’s words about persistence ringing in his ears, he had written several times to Kath’s home address. He’d received nothing from her apart from a brief note thanking him for the lovely day in Lincoln.

He told himself to be patient. In these troubled days everyone was on the move, sometimes with only a few hours’ notice. No one could be sure of where they might be posted next.