John Hicks was there to meet them, and as the couple celebrated a joyous and loving reunion, Martin strode down to the luggage compartment and helped the guard lift down the numerous cases, boxes and bags and stack them onto a trolley. With just a nod in response to Stan’s cheerful greeting, he dumped his kitbag and suitcase in the left-luggage, shook hands with John, said goodbye to Sally and the boys and hurried out of the station.

Instead of going down the hill and making his way to Beach View, he began the long, steep climb towards Cliffe aerodrome in search of Roger. It felt good to be on the move again – wonderful to smell the salt in the air and experience the familiar swish of the long grass against his trouser legs.

He breached the brow of the hill and paused to catch his breath and take in the view, revelling in the sight of the familiar sprawl of Cliffehaven below him: the curve of the horseshoe bay, the white of the cliffs and the way the low sun gilded the tips of the seabirds’ wings. This was home, and his spirits rose as he set off again, his sights now set on the airfield he knew was in the far valley.

As he got nearer he could see that the runway was pitted and weed-infested, the grass on the side in need of cutting, although it looked rather lovely with the colourful wild flowers swaying in the light breeze. The control tower was in desperate need of a coat of paint, and the Nissen huts were showing rust patches and signs of decline.

Martin paused and looked out over the scene of his wartime exploits, remembering those who’d shared the sleeping quarters, sat in deckchairs waiting for the order to scramble, and caused havoc in the mess on their return. They’d partied hard to drown their sorrows when the list of missing and dead became ever longer, and to pluck up enough courage to do it all again the next day – and the next – until the weeks blurred into months, and then years. They’d all been so young and naïve to believe they were leading charmed lives where others had not been so lucky. But Martin had to admit that despite everything, those years had been the best of his life.

He slowly walked through the gap someone had forced in the wire fencing and wandered over to the ops room hut. There was nothing left of the large desk where the girls had moved toy planes about to signify enemy and Allied positions, but he thought he could hear their voices, and still detect a hint of their scent in the air.