‘You expect me to remember all their names?’

They sat companionably on the floor, leaning back on the bunk, sipping in silence.

‘Oh, I nearly forgot to say,’ Marcia said. ‘I saw your Indian prince there. I was rather surprised you weren’t with him.’

Kath gaped at her. ‘You must be wrong. Vic hates dances, and anyway he’s posted miles away, near London. It was probably some other bloke with dark looks.’

‘Well, it certainly looked like the same fellow you were snogging at the bus station in Lincoln.’

The breath seemed to stop in Kath’s chest. Surely it couldn’t have been him? Among so many hundreds of people it wouldn’t have been surprising if they’d simply missed each other, but why hadn’t he told her he was there? Come to think of it, she hadn’t heard from him for a while.

Another appalling thought. ‘Oh my goodness, what if it really was him? What if he saw me with Larry?’

‘Not good, I’m afraid. You were all over that fellow like a rash. There was only one conclusion your prince could have come to.’

Kath rubbed her temple, where the headache had begun to throb once more. ‘Was I that bad?’

‘’Fraid so. A few too many cocktails, maybe?’ Marcia checked her watch, sighed and rose to her feet. ‘Sorry, love. I’ve got to go. I’m on duty in thirty minutes.’

Back in her own bunk, waiting for exhaustion to overtake her, Kath replayed the previous evening in her head. She tried and tried to recall the faces in the bar, and the couples spinning around the dance floor, but they remained a blur. Surely she would have known at once, had she seen Vic? He’d have stood out a mile.

Why hadn’t he written lately? It was unlike him. He was usually so attentive, so well organised. With a sudden sharp pang, she realised she’d been so busy that she hadn’t even found out where the pigeonholes were. The more she thought about it, the more sleep evaded her. Eventually she gave up, got dressed again and went over to the clock tower. The post room was in a shed just across the way, they said.

She had four letters. One was from Mark – as usual he wrote only about generalities, food, parties and sporting escapades, with scarcely any reference to when or what he was flying, even though she knew he was risking his life every day – and no fewer than three from Vic, all forwarded from her parents’ address. Back in her room, she began with the first, a long missive from a fortnight before, describing his travels to different airbases, saying how much he’d enjoyed their day in Lincoln and how much he’d missed her. The second was briefer.

Dear Kath,

You are back at the old place! What wonderful news, especially as it means you can be close to your family.

The even better news is that I shall shortly be posted really quite close to where you are. They haven’t told us how long we’ll be there for, but I hope we can make the most of this turn of good fortune. It would be perfectly possible for us to meet somewhere in between if you would like to, and if we can co-ordinate our leave. I’m sure you are settling in by now and starting to get to grips with the different systems, and hope you are enjoying yourself too.