‘Oh, you are,’ said Frank warmly, and meant it. He brushed her dark curls where they were coming loose from the base of her uniform cap. ‘I’m a lucky man and I know it. It’s not every old crock who has a beautiful young woman on his arm.’

‘Old crock – get away with you.’ Sylvia punched him on the arm. She’d known about his leg from the start and it had never bothered her, though she sensed it still troubled him far more than he let on. All she could do was carry on as normal and hope that one day he’d believe her that it really didn’t matter. He was devastatingly good-looking, he was widely respected at work, and she knew she was the envy of most of the female members of staff at Derby House to be walking out with him. Fair enough, he might not be able to take her dancing at the Grafton, but in all other respects he was just what she’d always wanted. If only he could believe that. Sometimes she wondered if he ever would.

‘Let’s get the bus,’ she suggested, rounding the corner and not even registering the damage to what had once been the large John Lewis department store, so familiar was it in its wrecked state. ‘We don’t want to miss the beginning. That’s the moment I like best – when the lights begin to go down.’ She looked up at him brightly, and winked.

Frank squeezed her shoulder. They halted by the bus stop, busy with workers returning to the outskirts of the city, many in uniforms of the various armed forces. There was a hum of chatter, and Frank thought for a moment how much he loved his home city, with everyone pulling together and getting on with what needed to be done, despite the horrendous bomb damage all around. The people of Merseyside were bigger than the attacks of the Luftwaffe. This is what they were fighting for – the spirit of the place and the people who lived there. He was proud of his uniform, and Sylvia’s, and could see that other people were looking at them approvingly. His earlier qualms seemed unjustified and silly now.

‘Come on, this is ours.’ Sylvia stepped onto the bus and Frank let her choose where to sit. Miraculously there were two seats together, but this was near the start of the route, and later on it would be standing room only. He was secretly glad – he’d of course get up and offer his place to anyone who needed it, but standing for any length of time in a moving vehicle was something he’d rather avoid. As more passengers got on he was pressed closer to Sylvia and he noticed yet again how her cleverly altered uniform jacket curved around her shapely body. No wonder the men in the bus queue had looked at him with envy.