Cousins at War

Cricklewood, 18 February, 1941

Dear Mum,

I’m sorry to have been so long in writing again, and for not writing much last time. The Technical College is really interesting, a whole course just about vehicles. We’re billeted in a private house, two to a room, and I share with Alf Melville, remember I told you about him, he’s my mate from Elgin. The food’s not bad, better than we got in the mess at Chilwell, and I’ll be getting as fat as a pig if I’m not careful. I’ve had to shift the top two buttons of my trousers already. It’s either the food or not having any route marches to do.

Hope you and Dad are keeping well, and give my love to the girls. It was good to see you all, but it will be a while before I get home again.

Your loving son, Neil

PS Just got your letter about Donnie and Helene, and I can’t get over them being killed like that. I wish I’d had time to go and see them, for it wouldn’t have been far from here, and I was thinking about it. Please tell Queenie how sorry I am. It must be awful for her, losing all her folk, and she’s such a nice kid. N.

After Joe had read the letter, Gracie said, ‘I don’t like him being down there. I’ve heard there’s prostitutes walking about the streets of London, and what . . .’

‘Prostitutes walk about the streets of Aberdeen, as well. There’s Snuffy Ivy and . . .’

‘Och, her.’ With an irritated movement of her hand, Gracie dismissed the well-known lady whose nasal manner of speaking had earned her the nickname. ‘She keeps to the harbour area, and doesn’t bother ordinary men, but supposing one of them down in London accosts Neil?’

Her husband gave a great roar of laughter. ‘I wish I was there with him, then, that’s all I can say.’

Tutting in exasperation, Gracie snapped, ‘Could you just be serious for once? He’s too young to . . .’

‘He’ll likely be kept too busy at that college to meet any girls, prostitutes or otherwise.’

She looked a little happier, but took the final word. ‘I hope so, as long as he never gets tempted into doing things he shouldn’t even be thinking about at his age.’

23 February, 1941

Dear Neil,

I hope you don’t mind me still writing to you, though I think you could force yourself to answer sometimes. What kind of things do you learn down there? I suppose it must be something to do with the mechanical side of things, since it’s called a technical college. By the way, I’d be interested to know how you spend your free time. Do you go to the cinema with your pals or have you started drinking?

I am missing you a lot since you went back off leave, not that I saw much of you when you only visited us twice! I was rather hurt at that, but I thought you looked great in uniform. I’m fed up having nothing to do except study for exams, but it should all be worth it in the end, when I get my degree. I’ll be Dr. Potter, but that sounds so stupid, I’ll have to change my surname. Can you think how I could do that?

I’ve nothing else to write about meantime, but I will definitely be expecting an answer to this. Mum, Dad and Raymond send their regards. I think about you all the time, and I hope that you sometimes think of –

Your loving cousin, Olive.

6 March, 1941

Dear Olive,

I am glad to hear you are studying hard, and I wish you luck with your exams. I don’t mind you writing as long as you don’t mind me taking a long time to answer. We are kept at it here and I don’t get much time to myself.

Your cousin, Neil

17 March, 1941

Dear Mum,

Thanks for your letter. I’m sorry Olive wasn’t happy with what I wrote, but it was difficult to know what to say to her. She could read things into a letter that I didn’t mean, you know what she’s like. Anyway, she wouldn’t understand if I told her what we’re learning about army trucks and such like, and I’ve nothing else to write about. Is there any word of Raymond leaving school? He told me when I was home that he was fed up, and it would be good for him to get out into the world and learn to stand up to Olive.

You didn’t say anything about Queenie. I hope she is getting over what happened. Well, that’s all for now, and I promise to write a longer letter to Olive next time, though I’m not a great one for writing, as you know.

Lots of love to all, Neil

PS I change my underwear regularly, and I make a good job of darning my socks now, so you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll make a good wife to somebody some day (joke). N.

Neil had found the infantry training hard going, but he was fascinated by all the different army vehicles, and at nights he and Alf went to the cinema, or to a pub, or to a dance hall if they could afford it. He had never had any time for females in Aberdeen, but the girls here were different, and the uniform, which attracted them like moths round a flame, gave him a confidence he’d never had before. He could take his pick of them.

He had been in London for almost a month when he crossed the great divide. He had seen several girls home before, but had always stopped after a few kisses and had been proud of sticking to the straight and narrow, although it was really fear of the unknown that kept him from going any further. He wasn’t particularly attracted to Madge when he met her at a dance one evening, she was too quiet, but Alf had collared the only girl Neil fancied, so, while they were on the floor for the last dance, he asked if he could take her home. She agreed shyly and they set off in the darkness, walking side by side but not touching.

When they came to a derelict building, he led her off the pavement and was pleased to find that she wasn’t as shy as she seemed, returning his kisses in a manner which told him that she wasn’t inexperienced, either. He soon learned that she was much more experienced than he was. Her tongue probed his mouth, starting up an unfamiliar feeling in his loins, a feeling that grew more urgent as she guided his hand to her breasts. It was the first time he’d ever touched a girl like that, and before he got over the shock of feeling how firm they were – he had always imagined it would be something the same as taking hold of a sponge – she was rubbing her pelvis against him, laughing at his embarrassment as his increasing need became more obvious. ‘Do you want to do it lying down or standing up?’ she murmured.

He was shivering all over, even his teeth were chattering, though it was a warm night. ‘What’s best?’

Giggling at his ignorance, she pulled off her knickers and flopped down. He was scared at first, but Madge was a true connoisseur, a master – mistress – in the art of sex, and it turned out to be the most thrilling experience of his life. Even in his bed in the billet much later, he perspired as he recalled it – his first time, but not the last. Definitely not the last! He was on equal terms now with Alf Melville, who often bragged about how he had scored with whatever girl he escorted home. Madge hadn’t lasted long. She was always on the lookout for the best chance, and when a Canadian came on the scene, she ignored Neil. At first, he had felt peeved, but there had been other girls just as willing, for he wasn’t a greenhorn any more. He had taken Dolly home one night, Peggy another, and . . . he couldn’t remember half the names now, but none of them had objected to anything he did – in fact, they seemed disappointed if he didn’t go all the way, and who was he to disappoint them?

During the day, he and Alf were anxious to learn all they could about their trade. It was an integral part of their future, and they never let thoughts of girls infringe on it; they were only a pleasurable sideline, a hobby to fill the long evenings. Mrs Woods, their landlady, teased them when they went downstairs after the evening meal with their hair plastered flat with water, and boots polished until they could see their faces in them. ‘I don’t know what you boys do at nights,’ she smiled one day, ‘but I bet you don’t get up to no good.’

She gave a scream of laughter. ‘Oh, get on wiv yer. You’ve got proper filthy minds, you ’ave. That’s all you ever think abaht, innit?’

As all good things do, their time in Cricklewood came to an end, and the friends were posted to Larkhill in Wiltshire – Ordnance Corps but attached to the Royal Artillery – and had to face the rigours of army life once again. Luckily, it was not as bad as at Chilwell, and the restrictions imposed on them were amply compensated for by the warmth of the locals, who were bent on assisting them to have a good time. Free dances and concerts were laid on, and if no entertainment was provided on any specific night, some of the housewives issued invitations to their homes. As one young gunner observed, blissfully, ‘They’re offering their daughters up for sacrifice.’ The soldiers took advantage of it, seducing the poor unfortunates – who no doubt considered themselves fortunate to receive so much male attention – wherever and whenever an opportunity arose.

Neil Ferris was no exception, and entered wholeheartedly into the discussions that took place back in camp about the availability and prowess of the girls. They were categorised thus: willing and experienced, with a further breakdown on a scale of one to ten; willing but not exciting; reluctant but worth coaxing; a dead loss; out for a serious relationship – steer clear. The accent was on enjoyment, not commitment for life, and any young man who admitted to falling in love was held to ridicule. Those who made no play for the girls were assumed to be ‘pansies’ and were left strictly to their own devices – whatever they were.

‘I hope the blonde with the tits like barrage balloons is there tonight,’ Alf Melville grinned with anticipation as he and Neil walked towards the nearest village hall. ‘I’m going to grab her before anyone else gets their paws on her.’

Neil chuckled. ‘You’re welcome. That wee redhead with the wiggly arse is more my style.’

Their man-talk – as they imagined it to be – grew coarser until they burst out laughing. ‘I’ll likely land up with the flat-foot floozie that looks two ways for Sunday.’ Alf gave an exaggerated imitation of the poor girl’s squint.

‘At least she’s a decent figure,’ Neil groaned. ‘I usually get stuck with the one like a haystack tied in the middle.’ He sketched an outline with his hands.

Their loud cackles as they entered the hall made most of the dancers turn to look at them. ‘Oh, shit!’ Neil muttered. ‘The haystack’s spotted me. I’m off to the toilet.’

The next day, Neil had just come out of the NAAFI when he was stopped by a middle-aged woman. ‘You’re Scottish, aren’t you? I heard you talking to your friend the other day.’

‘Aye, I’m from Aberdeen.’ He spoke with as broad an accent as he could – a lot of the older women seemed to have a soft spot for the Jocks.

‘I was sure you were. My sister-in-law talks exactly like you. She belongs to Fraserburgh.’

Neil didn’t disillusion her, although the people from the ‘Broch’ had an entirely different accent from Aberdonians, and she carried on, ‘You must feel it, being such a long way from home, and I’m sure you’d like to come to my house for a meal tomorrow night, wouldn’t you? I’m Mrs Baillie of Rose Cottage, and I guarantee my cooking’s a lot better than the stuff they serve in your mess.’

It was the fifth invitation he’d had in two weeks, but the woman wasn’t to know. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ he smiled. After all, she might have a nubile daughter – she looked old enough – and he was always ready for a bit of this, that and the other . . . especially the other.

Mrs Baillie did have a daughter, Neil discovered, when he turned up at Rose Cottage the following evening – a slender brunette with baby blue eyes and cupid’s bow lips. She was so beautiful that his spirits sank. Any mother would keep a careful eye on a gorgeous creature like this, and he’d have no chance to get her on her own. Deciding, ruefully, that it was as well to make the best of things, he tucked into the home-cured ham – done in honey and sliced inch thick – and the green salad and roast potatoes which accompanied it. The apple pie that followed had melt-in-the-mouth pastry and was coated in thick, clotted cream.

‘I can’t remember ever having had such a delicious meal,’ Neil said, truthfully, wiping his mouth with the starched, damask napkin and leaning back in great contentment. It had been worth coming for, even if nothing else was on offer.

Standing up, the woman said, ‘I’ll leave you to give Edna a hand with the washing up. I’ve a meeting at the Institute at half past seven, and I’m needing all my time.’

He couldn’t believe his luck, not until Mrs Baillie had put on her hat and coat and gone out, by which time he felt surprisingly bashful, but Edna solemnly collected the dirty crockery, ‘I’ll easily wash up by myself.’

He jumped gallantly to his feet, however, intent on making a good impression on this vision of loveliness. ‘When d’your mother’s meetings usually finish?’ he asked, as he dried the first plate.

Before he left, Neil was head over heels in love, and was still smiling in a somewhat inane manner after walking back to camp. ‘You look like a cat that’s been at the cream,’ Alf observed. ‘I take it there was a girl there? And by the look of you, you must have had a bloody good time.’

Neil rolled his eyes. ‘Edna’s a real corker! A smasher! An angel in disguise. She took a bit of coaxing, for she’s not really a girl like that, but she was worth it.’

A flicker of doubt hovered in Neil’s mind, ‘Don’t tell me you know her?’

‘Who doesn’t? And I mean that in the true biblical sense. Every squaddie for miles has laid her at some time. I’d have told you, if you’d said that’s where you were bound for.’

His euphoric love evaporating in disgust, Neil exclaimed, ‘Bugger! I should have known it was too good to be true.’

‘Is that what she usually does? What a bloody sucker I’ve been, falling head first into it.’

Neil wrote now about the dances and concerts he went to with his friend, which satisfied Gracie that he was happy where he was. ‘Alf sounds a decent laddie,’ she remarked to Joe. ‘He’ll keep Neil out of trouble. I was a bit worried in case some girl led him on and he got her in trouble, but I heard somebody saying the army provides against that, something in their food to dull their appetites for . . . sex. It’s a really good idea, with the boys so far away from their mothers.’

As usual, when she voiced any fears, Joe just laughed. ‘If what I’ve heard’s true, the army’s not bothered about them having sex, it’s pregnancies the army provides against.’

His eyes twinkling, Joe said, ‘It’s not the same. It means the laddies can have their fun without worrying.’

Olive was not popular with her fellow students – she was a know-it-all whom the lecturers were inclined to hold up as a paragon – but when she mentioned, in an off-hand manner and with the intention of impressing, that she had a boyfriend in the RAOC, the two girls walking along the corridor with her were very interested.

‘Twenty-four.’ Olive hoped that the extra six years would make Neil sound more mature.

Pauline Frayne, Polly to everyone, eyed her with a touch of wonder. ‘How did you meet him?’

‘His mother’s a friend of my mother’s.’ That was true, and there was no need to say that he was a cousin.

‘I’d never have guessed you’d a boyfriend.’ Looking rather flustered, Polly added, ‘I mean, you seem so aloof, and you never speak to any boys. Have you known him long?’

‘A couple of years. He did ask me to marry him last time he was home, but I told him I’d rather wait till after I was finished Medical School.’

‘Oh, yes, he’s a darling. He’s on a special course at the moment, training to be an officer.’ It was as well to tell a whopper as a small untruth, she reasoned.

Frankie’s smile was a little dubious. ‘I suppose he has actually kissed you?’

‘Oh yes, dozens of times, but I’ve never let him . . . I want to be a virgin on my wedding night.’ Noticing that Frankie looked more sceptical than ever, she added, ‘That is, if I can hold out that long . . . or if he can, which is more to the point.’

Polly sighed longingly, ‘I wish I’d someone like that. The boys I’ve been out with can’t wait to get on with the job, though I quite enjoy it. I know I am just a body to them, a body to satisfy their needs, but I suppose it’s better than giving my body for research.’

Giggling, Frankie said, ‘I’ve been researched a few times. Boys who hadn’t a clue how to do the thing properly, and the fumbling’s worse than anything.’

Having arrived at their lecture room, they trooped in and sat down in one of the tiered rows of seats, Olive now too involved with dreams of Neil actually doing what she’d said he had done to concentrate on anything else. They were white lies, that was all; everything would eventually come true, and she was sure that she had risen in her fellow students’ estimation. It might be a good idea to give Neil a hint of how she felt, a little nudge in the right direction?

1 April, 1941

My Dear Neil,

Here I am again with a few lines to let you know I’m still thinking about you. Your mother told me why you wrote such a scrappy letter before, so I forgive you – this time. She said she didn’t know where you were now but she gave me your new address, though a Forces Post Office number doesn’t tell anyone anything.

Are you lonely, being away from home? I wish I could be there to cheer you up, though I really need cheering up myself, so I expect a nice long letter back from you. I took a night off studying on Wednesday and persuaded (forced) Raymond to go to the Majestic with me, and we had to walk all the way home because no buses or trams run when there’s an alert on. But it was dull going to the cinema with my brother, so I pretended that it was you sitting beside me, and that you were holding my hand. I suppose you think I’m silly, but I often imagine you’re with me and it gives me a lovely warm feeling.

Raymond wants to leave school in the summer, but Dad says he has to stay on and try for the Varsity. I don’t think he’ll pass the Highers, neither does he, but Dad has set his heart on having another solicitor in the family. Thank goodness he didn’t expect me to follow in his footsteps, because I like Medicine, and I’ll concentrate on Psychiatry if I get the chance. I’m quite interested in how people’s minds work.

I will have to stop now, but I am going to tell you something first, and it’s not an April Fool joke, in spite of the date. I THINK I LOVE YOU. There, I’ve told you, and I wonder how you will feel about it?

Your loving cousin, Olive,

Neil was horrified and felt compelled to confide in Alf. ‘My cousin says she thinks she loves me.’

‘It’s anything but, she’s a bloody nuisance. I can’t stand her. She’s always made sheep’s eyes at me and tried to get me all to herself, but this is beyond a joke.’

Alf ran his hands through his sandy hair, his round face thoughtful, but after a moment, he said, ‘What does she look like? Is she anything decent?’

‘Is she, though?’ Alf pondered over this, then a slow, sly smile crept over his face. ‘I noticed that we’ll both be on leave at the same time, so how about asking me to your house before I go home to Elgin. I won’t stay long, maybe a couple of nights or so, but you can introduce me to Olive, and I’ll make a play for her, and with my irresistible charm, she’s bound to transfer her affections to me.’

‘I’d do anything for a friend, especially when he’s got a pretty cousin he wants rid of.’

‘I’ll easily give her the old heave-oh when I want to, but maybe I won’t want to.’

10 April, 1941

Dear Olive,

Thank you for your letter. I’m glad you take time off sometimes, for you must get very bored of studying. Raymond did tell me when I was home that he wanted to leave school, but if your dad says no, I suppose he’ll just have to stay on. You asked me if I was lonely, well, the answer is no. I’m having a great time with all the girls here, a different one every night I’m off duty, though there’s nothing serious. It would do you good to go out with boys once your exams are past. We were on manoeuvres again last week, and it’s not much fun when the rain is teeming down, I can tell you. Army greatcoats and trousers take ages to dry. I got a chill the first day, and I’ve been sniffling ever since.

Regards to all your family, Neil

Neil’s letter made Olive livid. He’d had the cheek to ignore her declaration of love, had even insulted her by saying she should go out with other boys. Surely he couldn’t really be telling her to look for somebody else because he didn’t love her? No, no, that was impossible. As she had said to Raymond and Patsy at New Year, Neil was too shy to tell her he loved her, and he must be bluffing when he said he’d been out with other girls. Anyway, he had said that there was nothing serious, and if he was here, she would convince him that she was the only girl for him.

Joe closed his eyes to listen to ‘Garrison Theatre’ on the wireless, but Gracie was interested in an advertisement in the newspaper. ‘I see Raggie Morrison’s have a sale on just now – winceyette nightdresses for three and eleven. I could be doing with a new nightie.’

Raggie Morrison’s – or Morrison’s Economic Stores, to give it its proper title – was a rambling emporium which stocked most things from alarm clocks to bedsocks, fireside rugs to men’s combinations, and which had a sale almost every week, as both Joe and Gracie were well aware. ‘You’re not needing a winceyette nightie when it’s coming on for the summer?’ he muttered. ‘You’ll sweat like a pig.’

‘Ladies don’t sweat like pigs,’ she retorted. ‘Anyway, I’d keep it till the winter.’

‘You’re old fashioned, Mum,’ Patsy smiled. ‘It’s only old women that wear winceyette nighties. It’s interlock pyjamas you should get.’

Joe sniggered, ‘I can vouch for that. She sticks her cold feet up against my legs and has me shivering as well.’

Gracie looked embarrassed at this intimate detail of her marriage coming out, but Patsy said, ‘Interlock pyjamas are actually warmer than nighties, Mum, so you’ll be doing Dad a favour as well as yourself if . . .’

‘No, no,’ Gracie interrupted. ‘I’ve been wearing nighties all my life, and I’m too old to change. I’ll buy a nightie tomorrow morning, and I’ll start getting Neil’s room ready for him in the afternoon.’

‘Oh, you men! I’ve the bedding to air, and give the place a good clean, and I’ll only have a day and a half.’

Having not seen Queenie since her tragic loss, Neil felt ill at ease with her, but felt that he had to make some sort of commiseration. ‘I’m sorry about your mum and dad, Queenie . . . and your grandmother and grandfather. I could hardly believe it when Mum wrote and told me.’

Her face muscles tightened, ‘I can still hardly believe it myself, but . . . thank you, Neil.’

She was clearly near to tears, and he wondered if it would have been better not to say anything, but he hadn’t wanted her to think he didn’t care. He did care. His heart ached to see her so unhappy, and he felt like putting his arms round her to comfort her, but that would probably make her worse. Remembering that his friend was waiting to be introduced, he said, ‘This is Alf Melville, folks,’ and was relieved to see, when he glanced at Queenie again, that she was smiling at something Patsy had said.

Hetty and Martin took to Alf straight away, as had Joe and Gracie, but Olive felt annoyed by his presence. Every time she tried to talk to Neil, his friend butted in and spoiled it. Thank goodness he wouldn’t be in Aberdeen for long she thought, giving up all hope of speaking to her cousin. As the evening progressed, she realised that Alf was looking at her with some admiration, and it occurred to her that a spot of jealousy would do Neil no harm; it might even make him realise that he did love her. With this in mind, she turned her full attention to Alf, agreeing when he asked her to go out with him the next night.

‘It worked like a charm,’ Alf remarked to Neil on the way back to King Street. ‘I like big breasted girls and Olive’s got the best pair of tits I’ve seen in a long time. Are you sure you want me to go on with this?’

Neil didn’t take time to consider. ‘I’m sure, and you’re welcome to her, if that’s what you want.’ For an instant, it crossed his mind that they were being unfair to Olive, but she had asked for it, and she had jumped at the chance of a date with Alf.

Olive did have second thoughts when she went to bed, but the carrot of making Neil jealous was too tempting to pass, and she was strangely attracted to his friend when he called for her the following evening. Alf was very charming as they strolled out Queen’s Road into the countryside, and he was quite good looking in a rugged sort of way, with twinkling eyes that suggested he might be good fun. He was a little shorter than Neil, with slightly broader shoulders, and his manner towards her was much more flattering than the boorish way Neil always treated her.

When Alf stopped and pushed her gently against the dyke, she felt uneasy, but his tender kisses made her forget her fears, and she slid her arms round his neck, hoping that he would become more passionate, but in a few minutes, he drew away and they resumed their walk. A little farther on, Olive said, ‘Instead of turning and going back the way we’ve come, we could go by the Switchback and the Lang Stracht. It’s not much longer – just like going in a circle, really.’

As she had hoped, the hollow at the foot of the Switchback was so secluded that Alf stopped again, and several times on the long, straight stretch of country road, so that it took them much longer to get back to Rubislaw Den. After a last, lingering kiss, Alf said, ‘Tomorrow night again?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Olive felt lightheaded as she went inside. Alf was good fun and had behaved like a gentleman – although she half wished that he hadn’t – and a double dose of jealousy should teach Neil a lesson. Not that she was caring what he thought now, but he deserved it.

Neil eyed Alf with some curiosity when he returned to King Street, but waited until they were alone before he put the question. ‘Well, what did you think of her?’

‘She didn’t know how to kiss. She’s a dead loss . . . but I’ve asked her out tomorrow again.’ He struck a pose and went on, ‘It is a far, far better thing I do now, than I have ever done before, and it’s all for you.’

Neil rubbed his hands gleefully. ‘That’s my boy! As long as you take her attention off me, that’s all I ask.’

On their second date, Olive returned Alf’s kisses with an ardour which pleased yet disquieted him. Awakening love for him was stirring in her heart, and she believed that he was more than a little in love with her, so it came as a great disappointment when he broke away from her abruptly. In the next instant, she felt triumphant, assuming that he had been aroused by her and hadn’t wanted to defile her.

That night, in bed, she couldn’t picture Neil’s face, try as she would. It was Alf she kept seeing; the twinkling blue eyes which had turned serious just before he kissed her; the strong mouth that could be heavenly tender against hers; the sandy hair with just a tiny kink on one side of the parting. Why had she ever thought she was in love with Neil? Drowning in a sea of unfamiliar emotions, Olive did not realise that her feelings stemmed from having received her first kisses, and would have been mortified to know that Neil himself had had a hand in arranging the whole episode.

Neil was already in bed when Alf went back to King Street. ‘How did you get on this time? Did you score?’

Alf looked uncomfortable. ‘I might have if I’d tried, but I couldn’t . . . she’s your cousin, after all, and I didn’t know how you’d feel about it.’

Screwing up his nose, Neil said, ‘I wouldn’t have minded. Olive needs a bit of a shake up. It would do her good, take some of the starch out of her.’

‘She’s not my type.’ Grinning, Alf gave him a push, ‘Move over, you lazy bugger. You’re taking up all the bed.’

Alf went home to Elgin the following afternoon, and when she had her son on his own, Gracie took him to task for not writing as often as he had done before, but he looked at her unrepentantly, ‘I’ve been going out quite a lot lately, and I didn’t have time to write.’

‘It wasn’t always the same girl. Connie, she’s the current one, well, she’s quite a good sort, but I’m not ready for anything serious yet.’

Considering it wise to change the subject, Neil said, ‘You and Dad both look well. Is the shop still doing OK?’

‘It’s doing fine. Your Dad’s pleased with himself, though he girns on about the rationing.’ Gracie would have liked to know more about this Connie he had been going out with but didn’t ask.

At lunchtime, Neil said, ‘I think I’ll take a dander up to Rubislaw Den this afternoon.’

‘Hetty’ll be pleased to see you. I’m glad Olive went out with Alf. She could do a lot worse than him.’

Recalling his friend’s amorous adventures both at Larkhill and Cricklewood, Neil grinned. ‘I doubt it. I’d like to have a natter with Martin as well, so I likely won’t be home at teatime.’

He left the house with his father and, as they walked up the street, Joe looked sideways at him. ‘What’s this your mother was telling me about . . . Connie, was it?’

Neil laughed. ‘She’s one of many. Let’s say I’m sowing my wild oats, the same as you, likely, when you were my age.’

‘No, I didn’t go with any girls before I asked your mother out, and that took me all my time. I’m right surprised that you’re going back to see Olive, though. I thought you didn’t like her.’

‘I don’t.’ He considered telling his father about the plan Alf had thought up, but decided that it was too risky. ‘I just wondered what she thought of Alf.’

Neil smiled, a little nervously. ‘That’s Alf all over. He can’t leave the girls alone.’

Stopping at the door of his shop, Joe said, slowly, ‘She’s one girl I’d advise both of you to leave alone. I sometimes think she’d never let go if she fell in love.’

His father’s words had made Neil think, and by the time he rang Hetty’s bell, he was wondering if Alf’s idea had been such a good one, after all. His aunt welcomed him warmly and took him into the sitting room, where they chatted until her son and daughter came home. ‘Look who’s here,’ she cried to them, skittishly.

Raymond rushed over, but Olive hung back until her mother said, ‘Aren’t you going to say hello to Neil?’

She came forward shyly, which was so unusual that Neil did not like to ask her any questions, and when Martin appeared he monopolised the young serviceman until Hetty told them to go through to the dining room. To Neil’s relief, Olive took her seat at the opposite side of the table, and because his uncle talked to him all through the meal, he did not have to look at her. Back in the sitting room, however, their eyes did meet occasionally, but he couldn’t place what he saw in hers . . . it surely couldn’t be pity? Whatever it was made him look away uneasily, and he prayed that when Alf eventually gave her the cold shoulder she wouldn’t decide to latch on to him again.

Chapter Five