they’d known him. At first Laura had called him Captain Killjoy, as their working relationship had begun with hostility on her part and near-silence from his; he’d also shown an uncanny knack of knowing when Laura had planned a night out, always calling her to drive him just when she was getting ready. That had lasted until they’d both been involved in rescuing a baby from a burning building after a bomb had gone off in a north London street. Peter had nearly died, and after that it had become obvious that the two of them were meant for each other.
‘Not as such,’ Laura admitted. ‘You know he’s careful never to breathe a word of what goes on at those interminable conferences of his. But I can tell something’s changed. I mean, it makes sense. Look at all the Allied success of the past year – North Africa, Italy. You’d have to say it would be no surprise if they were thinking of going into France now. Wouldn’t you, if you were in charge?’
Kitty took a step back. ‘I … I don’t know. Seeing as I’m never going to be in charge of something like that, I don’t think about it. I just get on with what I’m asked to do.’
‘Oh, so do I,’ Laura said hastily. ‘I’m just guessing. But it would be the obvious thing to do.’
Kitty glanced at her friend. Of course she would hear conversations like this all the time, even if they weren’t full of detail. But Laura was used to being around discussions at that sort of level. Kitty wasn’t, and she didn’t feel qualified to offer an opinion. Also, even after having been friends for so long, Laura sometimes still had that effect on her: making her feel inadequate, that she was on the outside looking in, while the likes of Laura forged ahead, effortlessly taking charge, knowing they were born to make the key decisions. Then she gave herself a mental shake. Laura didn’t do it deliberately. It was just Kitty’s own habit to feel under-confident in the face of such assurance. But Kitty herself had changed since the early days of training – she had to remember that.
‘Besides,’ Laura said, her tone sadder now, ‘he’s been hinting that he might not be shore-based for much longer. Nothing definite, naturally. But it’s true; ever since I’ve known him he has been mostly behind a desk rather than on board a ship. I can tell he misses it, and he feels he should get back to sea and into the heart of the action. I admire him for it, of course I do, but I can’t help wanting him to be safe as well.’
‘Oh, Laura.’ Kitty gave her friend’s arm a squeeze. ‘He’ll have to go where he’s sent, won’t he? Like the rest of us. We know he’s brave, there’s no question of that.’
‘He feels he hasn’t taken his share of the risks,’ Laura said flatly. ‘We both know it was taking the risk of jumping through that window with all the shattered glass that injured him, so you can hardly accuse him of taking the easy way out with a desk job. They had to keep him from active service for ages while he built up his strength again – not that you’d get him to admit it. But he feels everyone thinks he’s taken the cushy postings, when really the opposite is true. He lives with the consequences of that injury every day; he’ll never be fully free from pain.’ She pulled a face. ‘Anyway, there we are. Nothing I can do about it. If he does take part in whatever’s coming up, maybe he’ll bump into Marjorie, to say bonjour.’
Kitty gazed up to where the tree branches almost met in an arch above their heads, the new leaves beginning to bud. ‘It feels like it’s all a long way off, doesn’t it? Standing here in this quiet bit of the park.’
For a moment it was easy to forget that they were in the middle of the biggest city in the country, millions of people going about their business to fight for everything they held dear. The spring sunlight filtered through the swaying branches with just a hint of warmth to come.
Laura smiled. ‘Yes, but it’s not, is it? So, my girl, we have to grasp every moment. And in my book that means a nice cup of tea and maybe a cake if they’ve got any. Or a crumpet at least. Come on, I’ll treat you.’
Kitty relented. Laura clearly wasn’t going to be kept from a café for much longer. ‘All right, you win,’ she said. ‘Now you know the news and I know yours. Peter’s all right otherwise, isn’t he?’
Laura gave an even bigger smile. ‘Yes, still the dashing captain.’
Kitty knew that Laura had tried to keep her friendship with Captain Cavendish under wraps, as such relationships, while not exactly frowned on, and not uncommon, were not actively encouraged within the service. Once it had come to light, there had been a fair bit of jealousy of Laura and some very hurtful comments had been aimed her way. It being Laura, they had just bounced straight off her, but even so, Kitty was aware her friend never put herself forward for promotion or any kind of privilege, concerned that the immediate assumption would be that her boyfriend or his illustrious uncle had used their influence. Laura loved her job as it was, and she was very good at it, but Kitty wondered how long that would last, especially if Peter was called back to active service as seemed likely.
‘As long as you’re happy,’ Kitty said loyally.
‘I am,’ Laura assured her. ‘He’s the best thing that ever happened to me, I don’t mind telling you, and even better he says the same about me. I just adore him, however foolhardily brave he might be. Wouldn’t have him any other way.’
Kitty nodded, pleased for her friend. ‘And no news about—’
‘No, none,’ Laura said hurriedly. She didn’t have to check what Kitty meant; there was one person they both knew was never far from Laura’s mind. Her cheerful attitude masked a deep-seated sorrow for her lost brother, a pilot missing in action since before they had started their training. No confirmation had ever come about what his fate had been, and so there was no way of knowing if he was alive or, more likely, dead. So Laura kept going, trying to remain positive, but with a little bit of hope dying away every day.
‘No, nothing. Of course I’d tell you if there were. And who knows what might happen if we invade France? I might at least find out, one way or the other. But for now it’s limbo as usual. Come on,’ she tugged on Kitty’s arm, ‘I’m perishing. I’ve put on my most glamorous new coat for you, I hope you recognise, and it turns out to let the breeze right through it, so if I don’t have a hot drink soon I might well expire, and you wouldn’t want that on your conscience, would you?’
‘Definitely not, Peter would kill me,’ said Kitty, allowing Laura to lead her towards Piccadilly and the promise of tea and crumpets.
‘So will you look after Georgie on Saturday evening, Mam?’ asked Nancy, quickly checking her reflection in the mirror over Dolly’s fireplace. She carefully smoothed her victory roll, making sure every hair was in place. She had red hair like her sister Rita, but Nancy’s was more Titian in tone, and she always styled it, whereas Rita usually made do with anything that was tidy enough to fit under her nursing sister’s cap. Nancy nodded quickly in satisfaction. She’d been told she had a look of Rita Hayworth about her, and thought there might be some truth in it.
Dolly looked up from the comfy armchair, where she was knitting something in mustard yellow with wool unravelled from Violet’s old cardigan, which had finally given up the ghost. ‘Saturday evening? Are you off out, young lady? Don’t forget your poor husband, stuck in a Jerry prison.’
‘Of course I never forget Sid,’ snapped Nancy, annoyed, ‘but it doesn’t mean I have to spend every hour God sends with his miserable mother in her horrible house. Honestly, Mam, she keeps it so cold it’s a wonder I haven’t turned blue. It’s making Georgie ill, I swear it. He’s got a bad chest again, poor little soul.’ Sid Kerrigan had been a prisoner of war since Dunkirk and had never even seen his little boy. Now and again Nancy felt guilty about that, but usually
