Really, she told herself as she connected the next call, this wouldn’t do. She couldn’t allow herself to be thrown like that. She was meant to be showing the younger ones how to conduct themselves, and getting into a flap would only lead to mistakes. So what if it had been Frank Feeny? He was entitled to call any naval establishment. He most likely did so all the time, and so in some ways it was actually strange that their paths hadn’t crossed before now. It was irrelevant to her work, and he was nothing to her other than as a former neighbour and big brother of her great friend Rita. Yet her heartbeat told her differently, as it took ages to settle down to its regular pace. She made herself breathe in and out slowly, fighting against the knowledge that somehow, deep down, that profound and familiar pull was very much still there.

‘You were keen enough a moment ago. What’s changed?’ The young GI was slurring his words a little as he planted his arm against the rough alley wall right by Nancy’s shoulder, blocking her way. The dance was over, night had fallen, and people were making their way home, or at least back to their billets. Nancy looked into the man’s face, which had been pleasant enough early in the evening, and saw an unwelcome gleam in his eye. He was having trouble focusing and his breath smelt unpleasantly of sour beer.

‘You’ve made a mistake,’ she said as lightly as she could. ‘I’m a married woman. It was just a dance, nothing else.’

‘No, it’s you who’s made the mistake.’ He brought his face closer to hers and the stench of alcohol grew even stronger. ‘We got a word for girls like you and it ain’t pretty. You come along, all dolled up and making eyes at us, and then you try to run off when we take you up on what you’ve been offering all evening. You’re just a tease, aren’t you?’ He tried to touch her face but missed, and she twisted away.

‘I promised you nothing,’ she said, keeping her voice even, knowing she couldn’t let him see any fear. She reminded herself she’d dealt with worse than this. Some of Sid’s friends used to get out of control when they got drunk, and any time he turned his back for a moment she’d had to be on her guard for leering comments or wandering hands, even though they knew she and Sid were an item. She could usually talk her way out of anything. The trouble was that this young man seemed too far gone to take in what she was saying.