Rita gazed at the square-cut diamond that blushed the finest pink in the sun. It was the most beautiful token of love, but she couldn’t take it. ‘It’s truly the loveliest thing,’ she managed, closing the box. ‘But it wouldn’t be right to accept it – not yet.’

To her surprise, Peter grinned. ‘Don’t be such a stick-to-the-rules Pom,’ he teased, taking the ring from the box and determinedly slipping it onto the third finger of her right hand. ‘This isn’t an engagement ring, see – it’s on the wrong finger. But it is a token of my love in the hope you’ll eventually let me put it where it really belongs.’

Rita didn’t know what to say as she gazed back at him.

He lifted her hand so the sunlight flashed pink fire on the ring. ‘That’s a diamond – a pink one,’ he explained, ‘and quite rare. I found it in the Kimberley which is way out in the Never-Never of North Western Australia. I was doing a stint of prospecting in between the shearing seasons. The gold is from a mine in Coolgardie. I got it made into a ring for when I found the girl I wanted to spend my life with. And that’s you, Rita.’

Wordlessly, her heart too full to speak, she gazed at the stunning ring and watched how the light played on it as she moved her hand.

Peter watched her. ‘Beautiful,’ he whispered. ‘So beautiful you put that diamond in the shade.’ He drew her tenderly into his arms and held her close.

‘I love you, Pete, really I do. But I’m frightened,’ she confessed.

He stroked her hair and continued to hold her. ‘I know, love,’ he said softly. ‘It’s a big decision to make. But we’ll work something out, no worries.’

The factory estate looked quite naked without the barrage balloons floating above it, but the high wire fences remained in place because the armament factory was still producing its bombs, bullets and shells.

Doris looked out of the office window to the scene below as the workers traipsed back from the canteen after their lunch break. ‘They don’t look too happy to be here,’ she remarked. ‘I can’t say I blame them, though. I’m still feeling exhausted after two whole days of celebrating.’

John came to stand behind her, his hand discreetly resting on her hip below the level of the window ledge. ‘The numbers are right down,’ he murmured, ‘and there will be fewer next week once they’ve got their wage packets. The managers aren’t surprised, because many of the workforce aren’t local, and now the war’s over, they’ll be eager to go home to their families.’

‘But there’s still a war in the Far East,’ protested Doris. ‘They’ll need planes and tools and armaments to fight off the Japanese.’