‘Winnie, are you there?’ It was Elsie’s voice, accompanied by a tentative knock.

‘Just a minute.’ She shovelled the letters back into the suitcase and pushed it under the bed before going to the door.

‘Your downstairs neighbour let me in,’ said Elsie, bringing a cylinder of cold air into the room with her. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d be back from the party. Can I stay here?’

‘Yes, of course. What’s happened? Did you tell Gordon?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He cried, and then I cried, and I gave him back the ring and he said I should keep it, and we shook hands and I cried again. It was all just like a film, except then he told me he’d probably marry Cherry Parsons now.’

‘Who’s she?’

‘Neighbour on the other side. And then I went home and saw my mum, and she’s thrown me out.’

‘What?’

‘I told her about Gordon, and she hit the roof and said I’d end up a stringy old maid. I think she’s always preferred him to me.’ She gave a weary half-smile. ‘Talk about burning my boats.’

‘Lucky you’re a WREN.’

‘Ha ha. How was the party?’

‘Avril made a speech about me.’

‘Did she?’

‘Compared me to an ox.’

‘Cow.’

‘No, ox.’

‘Her, I meant.’

‘Oh. Yes.’ There was someone bawling a song in the street outside, and it was a second or two before Winnie realized that it was ‘Auld Lang Syne’. ‘Is it midnight?’

‘Nearly.’ Elsie checked her wristwatch. ‘Five minutes. Haven’t got anything to toast the New Year in with, have you?’

‘Yes! Bottle of sloe gin – it was a present from my mother.’ She fetched two mugs and poured them each an inky inch or two.

‘Looks like a magic potion, doesn’t it?’ said Elsie, admiringly, tilting her mug. ‘What’ll we wish for?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Winnie. She felt as if she were dragging Emlyn’s letters along in a sack. ‘Peace in 1945, I suppose.’

‘Not just peace. I don’t only want the fighting to stop, I want it to be better than it was before.’

‘“O brave new world, that has such people in it!”’

‘Yes, why not? If Mum’s wrong and I ever do end up married with kids, I want them to have a lot more than I had – in fact, I don’t even want kids if I can’t give them a nice time: what’s the point? I can’t ever remember not having a sore mouth when I was little, or a bunged-up nose. I can’t ever remember feeling properly full, I can’t even remember having fun, not till I joined the Amazons.’

Winnie touched her arm. ‘I wasn’t teasing, honestly. I agree with you, you know I do. Peace isn’t enough, it isn’t anywhere near enough, we should drink to … to …’

‘Happiness,’ said Elsie, firmly.

‘All right.’ They clinked mugs.

‘I taught you that toast, didn’t I?’ asked Elsie, gin halfway to her mouth. ‘The old sailors’ one?’