‘I’ve heard so much about you,’ Sylvia went on in her strong Cumberland accent. ‘You’ve just come home, haven’t you? Frank said you might be working alongside us.’

‘Did he?’ Kitty wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or not. Usually she didn’t like anyone discussing her work, out of habit, as you never knew who was listening in to your conversation. But what could be more natural than Frank talking about her return with his girlfriend? They would all know what she did – especially as Frank and Danny worked in the same place, although in different jobs. ‘Well, I don’t know if I’ll be in the same building or not. Probably not, actually. I’ll find out next week. But I expect we’ll bump into one another.’

‘It’s a lovely party, isn’t it,’ Sylvia went on, seeming not to notice Kitty’s hesitation. ‘I was so pleased to be asked. There’s so many people here and that’s a lot of mouths to feed.’

‘Oh, everyone pitched in with coupons and whatever they could spare,’ said Kitty. That was always the case round here. It was the best way of making sure there was enough to go round. On top of that Tommy, Michael and Megan had brought fresh produce from the farm, so that Dolly had been able to use butter and real eggs, usually luxuries beyond reach. Kitty had of course been persuaded to make one of her famous cakes, which she’d baked the afternoon of her first full day back, even though there had only been enough rationed ingredients for one tier – the other tiers were false, merely cardboard imitations. Still, it took pride of place on the dining table, with its pressed white tablecloth only brought out for special occasions.

‘I’m sure they did,’ Sylvia said appreciatively. ‘You won’t find food like this in our mess, I can tell you that.’

‘I know, I’m used to mess food, seeing as I’ve been transferred several times,’ said Kitty, realising that it might sound like a put-down, as though she was stressing her own higher rank, but unable to stop the words from coming out of her mouth.

‘Oh, of course, Frank said,’ Sylvia replied, with no sign of having taken offence.

Kitty couldn’t help but feel at a disadvantage. Clearly Sylvia knew far more about her than she did about the young Wren. She reminded herself that it was inevitable, and she shouldn’t let it upset her. She would have to get used to this. To buy herself some time, she took a bite from her sandwich, savouring the home-made chutney in it. That must have been a product of the victory garden.