‘Heavens, lad. RAF life seems to be suiting you,’ Pa said, slapping his son on the back. ‘Come in, come in. Shall we open a beer?’

He was shy at first and curiously formal, shifting in his seat and then padding about like a lion in a cage. Ma sent him upstairs to change out of his uniform. ‘You look like someone else in that jacket,’ she said, laughing, ‘I want my scruffy son back.’ Later, after a few beers, he kicked off his shoes and leaned back, putting his feet on the coffee table – no one told him off – and began to talk.

‘They never tell you how hard it is at first,’ he said. ‘All those rules, all that discipline, having to be perfect. Those corporals are mean bastards, too, pulling you up for everything, right from the start, when you haven’t even worked out what’s up and what is down. I was on the point of quitting several times, as were some of the others. But I suppose it’s your pride that keeps you going, and the fear of failing. Anyhow, I stuck it out and passed with good marks.’ He sat up, bracing his shoulders, chin high. ‘You see before you Aircraftman Motts Number Two Class.’

‘Cheers to that,’ Pa said. ‘Well done, son. We’re proud of you.’

‘When do you start flying?’ Kath asked.

‘Cripes, not for ages,’ he replied quickly, with a glance at his mother. ‘You have to do all sorts of physical tests and written exams, and only the best make it through. But my eyesight is good enough, they say, so that’s a start.’

‘You’re enjoying it, that’s the main thing, isn’t it?’ Maggie said.

‘Now I’ve got used to the discipline, and I’m finding my place,’ he said. ‘Still hard work, but we play hard too.’

‘I hope you are behaving yourself, Mark?’

‘We have a good time, Ma. That’s all you need to know.’ Kath returned his glance with a smile. He seemed to be well on the way to recovery.

They sat up late together, just as they had the night before he left.

‘It sounds like hell, the way you talk about it. Freezing barracks, long runs in the rain, horrible food and beastly bosses. Where’s the fun in that?’

He laughed, levering the top off another beer bottle. ‘It’s not fun, exactly. It’s bloody hard work, most of the time.’

‘But from the way you’ve been talking, you seem to be enjoying it. I’d be running for cover and the comforts of home.’

He took a long swig and gave a deep sigh. ‘It’s hard to explain, really. You wouldn’t understand.’

‘Try me.’

‘First, it’s been good to get away from here and all the sadness, you know, about Ray?’

‘That I do understand. You look so much better than when you left.’

‘Also, it’s very satisfying getting fitter and stronger. I never knew I had all these muscles in my body.’ He took another swig. ‘Go on, Kath. Have another. Keep me company.’