August 1941

It was late summer when Roz arrived at Lincoln station. Her tummy fluttered with nerves as the crowded train on which she had travelled came to a halt. She scanned the platform for any sign of Felix, and realised as she did so that she was very much looking forward to seeing him. You’ve missed him, she thought, her heart beginning to fill with joy, until nagging self-doubt caused her to wonder if Felix had missed her. Her heart thumped in her chest. What if he’d found someone else? What if he no longer found her attractive? What if he realised he was only with her because he had empathised with her predicament? She drew a deep breath. If any of those scenarios were correct, then there was nothing she could do about it. In fact she considered it a bit rich that she should have such fears when she herself had been drawn to another man.

Shuffling along behind the queue of people waiting to dismount from the train, Roz wondered how she could ever have doubted her feelings for Felix. When it was her turn to descend from the carriage, she looked into Felix’s upturned face. He looked exactly as he had the day she had said goodbye to him at the Betwys-y-Coed train station. She corrected herself. He didn’t look exactly the same: where once his face had been smooth he now had slight lines, no doubt caused by the stress and worry which war brought. Holding his hand, she stepped lightly down from the carriage, but before she could put both feet on the platform he had lifted her up into his arms and was kissing her tenderly. In that very moment Roz chastised herself for ever doubting the strength of their relationship. Felix was the man for her, always had been and always would be.

Lowering her gently to the ground, he slid his arms from around her waist and smiled down at her. ‘Gosh, how I’ve missed you,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve been so worried hearing about the blitz, and knowing you’re not too far away from the city.’

She smiled as he kissed the tip of her nose. ‘We’re three miles away, Felix, hardly round the corner, and the blitz was months ago, thank goodness.’

‘But you go in every day to deliver the milk,’ said Felix. ‘There could still be unexploded bombs, incendiaries, grenades, who knows?’

‘Grenades?’ Roz echoed, puzzled. ‘Aren’t they handheld?’

He shrugged. ‘The mind imagines all sorts, but I suppose grenades might be a tad unlikely.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that I’ve caused such worry,’ she said, studying the frown lines now prominent on his brow.

He placed his arm around her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. ‘You’re safe and sound and that’s all that matters.’