‘I lost a little weight,’ he admitted.

‘You sure did.’ Forty or fifty pounds, she guessed. It made him better-looking. His features now seemed craggy rather than ugly.

‘But you haven’t changed at all,’ he said, looking her up and down.

She had made an effort with her clothes. She had bought nothing new for years, because of wartime austerity, but for tonight she had exhumed an off-the-shoulder sapphire-blue silk evening gown by Lanvin that she had acquired on her last pre-war trip to Paris. ‘In a couple of months I’ll be twenty-six,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe I look the same as I did when I was eighteen.’

He glanced down at her décolletage, blushed, and said: ‘Believe me, you do.’

They went into the restaurant and sat down. ‘I was afraid you weren’t coming,’ he said.

‘My watch stopped. I’m sorry I’m late.’

‘Only by twenty minutes. I would have waited an hour.’

A waiter asked if they would like a drink. Daisy said: ‘This is one of the few places in England where you can get a decent martini.’

‘Two of those, please,’ Charlie said.

‘I like mine straight up with an olive.’

‘So do I.’

She studied him, intrigued by the way he had altered. His old awkwardness had softened to a charming shyness. It was still hard to imagine him as a fighter pilot, shooting down German planes. Anyway, the Blitz on London had come to an end half a year ago, and there were no longer air battles in the skies over southern England. ‘What kind of flying do you do?’ she said.

‘Mainly daytime circus operations over northern France.’

‘What’s a circus operation?’

‘A bomber attack with a heavy escort of fighters, the main object being to lure enemy planes into an air battle in which they’re outnumbered.’

‘I hate bombers,’ she said. ‘I lived through the Blitz.’

He was surprised. ‘I would have thought you’d want to give the Germans a taste of their own medicine.’

‘Not at all.’ Daisy had thought about this a lot. ‘I could weep for all the innocent women and children who were burned and maimed in London – and it doesn’t help at all to know that German women and children are suffering the same.’

‘I never looked at it that way.’

They ordered dinner. Wartime regulations restricted them to three courses, and their meal could not cost more than five shillings. On the menu were special austerity dishes such as Mock Duck – made out of pork sausages – and Woolton Pie, which contained no meat at all.

Charlie said: ‘I can’t tell you how good it is to hear a girl speak real American. I like English girls, and I’ve even dated one, but I miss American voices.’

‘Me, too,’ she said. ‘This is my home now, and I don’t guess I’ll ever go back, but I know how you feel.’

‘I’m sorry I missed meeting Viscount Aberowen.’

‘He’s in the air force, like you. He’s a pilot trainer. He gets home now and again – but not this weekend.’