The caller hadn’t identified himself but merely said, ‘May I speak to Captain Squires, please? It’s rather urgent.’

All she’d had to say was, ‘Certainly, sir. Putting you through now,’ and no further interaction was needed.

There was a slight hesitation, almost as if the caller was about to say something other than the ‘thank you,’ that followed. The voice was troubling in its familiarity. Did the tone of it betray that he had known it was her, too?

She told herself to calm down. It was important that nobody saw her brief lapse of concentration. She was the most experienced operator in this unit and it was her duty to lead by example as well as coaching the newcomers. She couldn’t allow them to notice she was flustered. Besides, all she’d actually said were the very same phrases that she used scores of times every day.

Forcing herself to focus on the job in hand, she took the next call, but she was on autopilot. Try as she might to avoid admitting it, all her nerves were fizzing. Logically the speaker could have been any young man with a Scouse accent, and heaven knew there were plenty of them in the service. He’d spoken only those few words. But they were enough. She knew deep in her bones that it had been Frank Feeny. Although her mind could come up with umpteen excuses why she shouldn’t jump to that conclusion, her body betrayed her and reacted in the way it always did when she heard someone mention his name or read about him in a letter from home.

‘Everything all right?’ asked Lizzie, her co-billettee who also formed part of the same unit. ‘You look as if someone just walked over your grave.’

Kitty snapped back into her role. ‘Yes, quite all right, thanks,’ she said shortly. She saw Lizzie’s face fall – the junior Wren probably thought she’d made a faux pas – and quickly made an excuse. ‘Something in my eye, that’s all. It’s gone now.’