‘What are you doing, exactly?’

‘I’m part of the Signal Intelligence Unit. We listen to radio messages, mainly from the Imperial Japanese Navy.’

‘Aren’t they in code?’

‘Yes, but you can learn a lot even without breaking the codes. It’s called traffic analysis. A sudden increase in the number of messages indicates that some action is imminent. And you learn to recognize patterns in the traffic. An amphibious landing has a distinctive configuration of signals, for example.’

‘That’s fascinating. And I bet you’re good at it.’

Chuck shrugged. ‘I’m just a clerk, annotating and filing the transcripts. But you can’t help picking up the basics.’

‘How’s the social life in Hawaii?’

‘Lots of fun. Navy bars can get pretty riotous. The Black Cat Cafe is the best. I have a good pal, Eddie Parry, and we go surfboarding on Waikiki Beach every chance we get. I’ve had some good times. But I wish I was on a ship.’

They swam in the cold Atlantic, ate hot dogs for lunch, took photos of each other with Woody’s camera, and studied the swimsuits until the sun began to go down. As they were leaving, picking their way through the crowd, Woody saw Joanne Rouzrokh.

He did not need to look twice. She was like no other girl on the beach, nor indeed in Delaware. There was no mistaking those high cheekbones, that scimitar nose, the luxuriant dark hair, the skin the colour and smoothness of café au lait.

Without hesitation he walked straight towards her.

She looked absolutely sensational. Her black one-piece swimsuit had spaghetti straps that revealed the elegant bones of her shoulders. It was cut straight across her upper thighs, showing almost all of her long, brown legs.

He could hardly believe that he had once taken this fabulous woman in his arms and smooched her like there was no tomorrow.

She looked up at him, shading her eyes from the sun. ‘Woody Dewar! I didn’t know you were in Washington.’

That was all the invitation he needed. He knelt on the sand beside her. Just being this close made him breathe harder. ‘Hello, Joanne.’ He glanced briefly at the plump brown-eyed girl beside her. ‘Where’s your husband?’

She burst out laughing. ‘Whatever made you think I was married?’

He was flustered. ‘I came to your apartment for a party, a couple of summers back.’

‘You did?’

Joanne’s companion said: ‘I remember. I asked you your name, but you didn’t answer.’

Woody had no memory of her at all. ‘I’m sorry I was so impolite,’ he said. ‘I’m Woody Dewar, and this is my brother Chuck.’

The brown-eyed girl shook hands with both of them and said: ‘I’m Diana Taverner.’ Chuck sat beside her on the sand, which seemed to please her: Chuck was good-looking, much more handsome than Woody.

Woody went on: ‘Anyway, I went into the kitchen, looking for you, and a man called Bexforth Ross introduced himself to me as your fiancé. I assumed you’d be married by now. Is it an extraordinarily long engagement?’