Now she raised her glass to him. ‘Thank you, Staff Sergeant Trenton.’ She flashed her most brilliant smile and was careful not to spoil her lipstick as she took a sip of lemonade.

‘My pleasure, Nancy.’ He was tall, even when sitting at the old wooden table, which the landlady had polished to a bright sheen to compensate for all the cuts and scratches on its surface. His eyes danced with anticipation as he raised his pint of beer. ‘Your very good health.’

‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘And yours.’

‘I hope so too.’ He paused and seemed to be thinking. ‘Well, I might be in need of a bit of luck soon. Not that I can say why, of course.’

Nancy raised a carefully plucked eyebrow. ‘What do you mean, Gary? Is there something I should know?’

He shifted in his seat and looked around. Nobody was close enough to overhear them. He reached out and took her slim white hand in his large tanned one. ‘The thing is …’ He hesitated. ‘Goddamn it, Nancy, sitting here with you is enough to put a fellow’s mind in a bit of a spin. You got me saying things I shouldn’t.’

Nancy bit her lip. ‘Oh, Gary, you know I won’t repeat a thing. You can trust me, you know you can. Not that I want you to get in trouble or anything like that.’ She curled her fingers in his, suddenly aware of the warmth of his touch. She pushed to the back of her mind the uncomfortable fact that she’d slipped off her wedding ring earlier that evening, dropping it into her coat pocket wrapped in a hanky, after leaving Georgie with the Parkers once more.

‘Nancy.’ Gary’s face grew very solemn. His eyes were still bright but they had lost their humour. ‘You know what the rumours are. You’re in downtown Liverpool and all those soldiers around you all day long. You’re a sharp lady, you’ll know that something’s up.’

Nancy looked at him and nodded slowly in acknowledgement. She’d tried her best not to take any notice, recognising that there were always rumours and you couldn’t live your life according to what they said or you would drive yourself crazy. However there was no denying it, they were all saying the same thing these days: that there was to be a major offensive into northern France. It was what she’d overheard Eddy and Jack say when they’d been home on leave. The one thing at home about being the ditzy sister was that nobody expected you to understand veiled hints and vague conversations, so they just carried on talking when she was in the same room. But she wasn’t stupid. She could put two and two together as well as the next person.

‘Sort of,’ she admitted.