‘You tell me what she’ll want to know, then,’ he grinned. He had realised long ago that Sarah knew him better then he knew himself. ‘Better still, write a note and I’ll put it in with my letter about Tommy. That’ll sweeten the pill.’ He grew serious again. ‘Sar, just think of it, young Tommy wanting to put his life on the line like that. I can’t have that. It’s too much. Somehow, we have to stop him.’

CHAPTER THREE

Frank Feeny held the heavy door open for Wren Sylvia Hemsley as they made their way out of Derby House at the end of their shifts. It was unusual for them both to finish work at the same time and he thought they should make the most of it, so earlier when they’d met at tea break he’d suggested going to the cinema. She had said she’d think about it, but wasn’t sure if she would have to stay late to cover for a sick colleague.

Now, though, luck was on their side. Sylvia had been able to get off on time, and they emerged into the early spring evening. Liverpool city centre had taken a pounding earlier in the war and the ruined buildings stood testament to the bombing raids, but also to the indomitable spirit of the people, who had refused to be cowed. At first everyone had been hesitant to walk through the damaged streets, and there had been real danger from falling debris and potholes opening up, especially as there could be no street lighting. They’d got used to it now, though, and the area was beginning to come to life again. The evenings were slowly lengthening and a feeling of optimism was in the air. There had been no major raids over the city for some time, and there was a tangible sense of the tide of war being on the turn. The Allies had won the battle at El Alamein in North Africa and were making inroads into Italy. The attacks by U-boats on vessels in the North Atlantic had dropped considerably, much to the relief of many in the city, whose fathers, sons and brothers sailed that route, as members of the Royal Navy, Merchant Navy or Fleet Air Arm. Frank knew that many of the gains in the North Atlantic were down to what went on in the two levels of basement rooms in Derby House and the nearby Tactical Unit, all plotting the enemy’s positions, working out the best way to intercept and destroy them.

He looked at Sylvia and grinned. They deserved their evening off. ‘What do you fancy seeing?’ he asked.

Sylvia smiled back. ‘How about Casablanca again?’

Frank shrugged. He’d have preferred to go to something new, but Sylvia was a big fan of Humphrey Bogart. ‘I don’t mind,’ he said. ‘It’s on near your billet, isn’t it?’