Rosie was laughing at something the Major was saying as they ambled along arm in arm, seemingly oblivious to the damp drizzle that was dripping from the umbrella he was holding over her.

Ron eyed the Major, hating to admit that he was a good-looking man despite having lost most of one arm, and although he had to be several years younger than Rosie, they made a handsome couple. He grimaced at how at ease they seemed to be as they slowly approached Camden Road and finally turned down towards the Anchor.

Ron pulled up his coat collar and shivered as he watched them go into the side alley. What the hell were they both doing out this early? Had there been more than lunch involved, or was this a chance meeting and the Major was merely escorting her home before he went on his way?

Ron bunched his fists, the jealousy burning in him when he saw a light go on in Rosie’s sitting room. He could see her at the window, chattering and smiling over her shoulder before pulling the curtains against the dreary day and effectually shutting Ron out.

He stood there in the damp chill trying to decide what to do as the foghorn mournfully moaned its offshore warning. He could march over there and demand an explanation – or let himself in as usual and feign surprise at catching them together and wait to see what they had to say for themselves. Or he could just storm in there and punch the Major on the nose.

The latter wasn’t really an option, even though it might give him a fleeting satisfaction – for Rosie would never speak to him again and he’d feel an utter heel at doing such a thing to a man who’d sacrificed so much for his country. Yet Radwell had a flaming cheek, chatting up his girl and treating her to posh lunches. Hero or not, Ron would see to it that he’d get his comeuppance one way or another.

Ron chewed his lip and came to a decision. ‘Come on, Harvey, it’s time to get out of this finery and go for a proper walk so I can think. I’ll get to the bottom of what’s going on – but play it clever and not go in all guns blazing like she’d expect.’

Harvey looked up at him, his head cocked to one side, his eyes puzzled. His beloved human was clearly worried about something, and although he had a fair idea what it was, it seemed he didn’t want his help in solving the problem – which he could if only Ron paid proper attention to him.

Harvey looked back at the Anchor and, with a snort of disgust, trotted after Ron in the hope they might be going home for a second breakfast and a good rub-down with a towel.

7