Peter shifted slightly. ‘He’ll welcome your company; it’ll be a diversion for him. All work and no play, and all that.’

‘Well, you’re one to talk.’ She faced him with a quizzical expression. ‘I know what you’re like – you must get it from him. Promise me you’ll get a good sleep whenever possible, when … you know.’

‘I promise.’ Peter knew there was little point in arguing with Laura. He might be the captain and used to giving orders, but she was something else again. ‘Anyway, how was your day? How were the other lady drivers?’

Laura pulled a face. ‘They’re all right, they’re good sorts really. They just think I’m fearfully standoffish. They always want to know every detail of what I’m doing, whereas I like to maintain a little privacy. I’m certainly not going to tell them that I came here with you. They’ll go positively green. It’s not fair on them; they don’t get the odd night of the good life, so why torment them?’ She paused for another sip.

‘Bet they can’t reverse like you can.’

‘Of course not. Nobody can reverse like I can.’ She said it jokingly but there was a core of truth to it. She was extremely good at her job, but that wasn’t why he loved her to distraction. He thought she was the most beautiful, elegant, smart woman he’d ever seen, and knew she had deep reserves of courage too. She was also unbelievably stubborn and scarily determined – but all those qualities put together made her the right woman for him. He only prayed they would have time together to enjoy life properly when all the fighting was done.

She rested her head on his chest – carefully, to avoid where the wound had been – and he wrapped his arms around her. She was wearing a silky blouse in buttery cream. ‘This isn’t parachute silk, is it?’ he asked.

‘Really! No, it is not.’ Laura knew full well that plenty of women were making clothes from parachute silk, in the absence of anything better, and plenty of those were underwear. ‘I got it when I last went back to see Mummy and Daddy. It’s an old thing, nothing to make a fuss about.’

Peter could tell it must have been expensive once, but he didn’t really care. She could have worn an old sack and he would have still wanted to hold her tight, stroke her precious body through the folds of the material.

‘I wish you didn’t have to go,’ she said suddenly. ‘Damn Hitler and the lot of them. Just stay here with me.’

‘You know I can’t do that. And you wouldn’t want me to, not really.’

‘I know. It’s just so lovely here. Being here with you.’