‘Yes, you did. That’s what you come to these places for,’ he insisted, making a lunge for her hair with his other hand. ‘Cm’ere. Let me show you what you’ve been missing. Show you what we Yanks can do that your Limey boys can’t.’

‘Get your hands off me,’ Nancy snapped, angry now.

‘Don’t know what you mean,’ the GI said, his smile menacing. ‘You want my hands all over you, don’t you, you know you do.’

‘I most certainly do not,’ she half shouted, glancing around to see if anyone was nearby. There must still be some people around. They were only a stone’s throw from the hall where the dance had been held. All she had to do was make enough noise, or distract him, then she could run for it. She had hardly had anything to drink and had no doubt she could outpace the staggering GI, but first she had to make a break. Was that a figure out on the main road, lit by the bright moon? She raised her voice still further. ‘You take your hands off me right now. Go home … What do you think you’re doing?’

She almost screamed as he brought his hand clumsily down on her mouth, trying to shut her up. She wondered if she should bite his thumb. That might distract him enough so she could run off.

‘Gonna show you what you been asking for,’ he half crooned, eyes bright but glassy, stumbling a little as he said it. ‘Show me some of that …’ he hiccupped. ‘… British hospitality. That’s what you all reckon you’re famous for, isn’t it? British hospitality …’ He dragged his hand over her cheek and this time she screamed properly as his hand wandered down her neck, threatening to go lower still.

‘What do you think you’re doing, soldier?’ The half-glimpsed figure from the road turned and ran towards them, and in the dim light Nancy could see he was also an American serviceman but quite a bit older than her unwelcome companion. ‘You leave the lady alone. She said she wanted you to take your hands off, so just you get away from her.’ He grabbed the younger man’s outstretched arm from behind and the GI almost fell now that his prop had gone. He glared woozily at the older man and evidently saw at once that this was no contest – he didn’t stand a chance.

‘She said she wanted it,’ he protested feebly.

‘Get out of here and be thankful I’m not putting you on a charge,’ hissed the older man. ‘I’m going to remember your number and I’m going to get your unit to issue you a warning. You don’t go round attacking young ladies in dark alleys. You go back to your base and sleep off the booze. If you can’t take it, you shouldn’t drink it.’