Earlier that evening, Betty had had her own shocking news to digest. Standing in a puddle but not noticing the water soaking through the hole in the sole of her boot, with the wind and rain whipping against her face, making her skinny pale legs tremble, her jaw fell open as Robert told her his news.

‘Doris is dead,’ he said, speaking the words clearly causing him great pain. ‘Bleedin’ Jerry killed her when she was visiting her grandmother in Bath. Folk say the Luftwaffe were heading to Bristol again, but they emptied everything they had on Bath, late at night, when she had her head down for the night. She wasn’t killed then, but at 4.30 a.m. when they came back. Course the fires were still blazing from the earlier raid and Doris was out trying to help the old folk get to safety. Firefighters did their best, but whole streets were alight, and so they hit it again, just to make sure. It was then that she was killed. Apparently, the pilots came so low folk said you could see their faces as they released the bombs.’

Betty had to sit down on a garden wall. She’d read in the papers about the latest attacks by the Luftwaffe, who had eased off very slightly from London and were pounding the historic towns of Bath, Norwich and York instead, apparently in retaliation for the RAF’s hit on Rostow and Lubeck. Robert was a tough man. He worked long hours in the dockyards in all weathers until his hands were raw, and during the Bristol Blitz, he’d carried neighbours out of burning buildings over his shoulder without a moment’s hesitation, giving them the clothes off his back if they needed them; but now, he was fighting back tears as he spoke. Betty was speechless. For so many weeks she’d felt furious with Robert for his double life and rogue ways, as he lied and cheated his way through their marriage. She’d hated him and Doris for having children that she’d so longed for and despised herself for not confronting them. But how could she feel hatred now? Seeing Robert like this broke her heart. Instinctively she wanted to comfort him – after all, he was her husband.

‘Robert, I don’t know what to say…’ she started, reaching out for his hand and gently lacing her fingers through his. He squeezed her hand in his.

‘Can I buy you a cup of tea out of the rain?’ he said softly. ‘You’re soaked through. There’s a café down here and I know I owe you an explanation.’

In the café, shivering in her damp summer dress, with the rain streaking the windows and a steaming cup of tea that she couldn’t stomach in front of her, Betty’s mind raced with questions. The wireless played in the background and the smell of toasted teacakes wafted through the room.

‘About what’s happened, Betty,’ Robert said slowly, finally meeting her gaze. ‘I know how this sounds, but it’s been a tough few years.’

Betty shook her head and couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Yes, the man was going through it, and she was sympathetic to that, but he’d been carrying on with another woman for years. She felt a tide of resentment rising in her.

‘Perhaps you should have tried being honest,’ she said quietly, tracing a flower pattern on the tablecloth with her fingertip.

‘Thing is, I didn’t know what to do,’ he said, leaning back in his chair and looking out of the window. ‘I was going with Doris before I met you and when we were married, she came to me and said she was expecting my child. Her dad threatened to wring my neck and kill me with his own bare hands if I didn’t do the right thing by her, so I thought: nobody will find out, I’ll marry her as well and help look after the wee one, while not letting you down. Trouble was that Doris fell with more babies and it got out of hand. I juggled two families. Course none of this was fair on you, I know that. You have every right to hate me. I’ve done wrong, I know that. But now Doris is dead, I want you to come home, so we can get back to normal.’

Betty almost laughed at Robert’s naivety. Did he really expect she’d go running back to Bristol after the years of deception? Besides, she suddenly realised, he had three children. Unless…

‘Oh Robert, were the children injured in the bomb?’ she asked, her eyes open wide.

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Doris had left them with her sister in Bristol.’

Relieved, Betty exhaled, before asking: ‘What will happen to them now? Will her sister take them in?’

Robert sighed and shrugged before scratching his head and loosening his shirt collar.

‘I haven’t worked that one out yet,’ he mumbled. ‘Will you come home, Betty love? That’s what I came here to find out.’

Betty glanced at the clock on the café wall, where there was a poster declaring that ‘Cadbury is Quality’ next to a mirror, in which she caught her reflection. With wet hair stuck to her forehead and pink cheeks, she hardly recognised herself – or the glimpse of Robert she could also see; he looked suddenly much older than his years. The time was twenty-five minutes past five. She was due to meet Sam on the hour – and she didn’t want to let him down.

‘I need some thinking time,’ she said, pushing back her chair with a screech. Robert stayed where he was, rooted to his chair, apparently defeated and drained by everything that was happening. He was in a sorry state and in spite of every mistake he’d made along the way, Betty’s heart went out to him. She patted him on the shoulder and opened the door to leave.

‘Don’t keep me hanging on,’ he muttered as she left the café without another word, the door swinging shut behind her with a thud.

---

Willing the bus driver to travel faster and spend less time talking to every Tom, Dick or Harry that embarked, Betty checked the time with the passenger sitting next to her every few moments.

‘It’s still five minutes to six,’ the elderly man said, with a gentle laugh. ‘Are you meeting a young man, by any chance?’

Betty blushed flaming red.

‘Oh no, I…’ she started, but when he raised his eyebrows, she smiled. ‘Yes.’

‘Don’t you worry,’ he said, patting her hand as she gripped onto the handrail. ‘If he’s got any sense, he’ll wait all night for you.’

‘He’s Canadian,’ she blurted out. ‘I’m not sure how long he’ll be in Bournemouth, so I don’t want to be late.’

Betty frowned at her own words, wondering what on earth she was talking about.

‘Ah, I see,’ said the old man, with amusement in his voice. ‘The Canadians have been here a while already and I should think they’re browned off at being here so long without seeing any action. They’ve too much time on their hands for leisure activities.’

He winked at her and she blushed scarlet.

‘This is me,’ she said, jumping up from her seat. ‘Good night, sir.’

He raised his hand and gave her a small wave.

‘Youth comes but once in a lifetime,’ he said. ‘Enjoy yourself.’

Running to the clock tower, where she could see Sam getting drenched in the downpour, thoughts of Robert and of everything he’d just told her tumbled through Betty’s head. Unable to make sense of how she was feeling, she slowed down to a walking pace and took a deep breath. Wait a moment, she said to herself, pausing to tie her shoelace, what am I doing here? Why am I meeting Sam, when Robert, my husband, has just asked me to return to Bristol? Do I still love Robert? Or has he destroyed any love I had for him with his duplicity? Do I owe it to him to give the marriage another chance? And what about Sam, this new man she felt compelled to meet. How did she know he was trustworthy? Feeling utterly confused, she wondered if she should just return to her room, pull down the blackout blind and sleep, but Sam had already spotted her and was calling out her name.

‘The heavens have opened!’ he said, pacing towards her. ‘I was going to suggest a walk, but we might just as well go for a swim.’

Her doubts vanished. She grinned at Sam and took in all the details about him. So smartly turned out, even in the rain – he’d clearly polished his boots and buttons, had scrubbed and shaved and slicked back his hair. His teeth were pearly white and a dimple appeared in his left cheek when he smiled, but it was his eyes she was really taken with. They seemed to hold her, like warm hands, when he fixed her with his gaze.

‘Let’s go to a dance,’ he said, ‘and get out of this rain. I want to teach you how to jitterbug. Unless you’re hungry? We could eat first if you’re hungry?’

Betty shook her head. In her mind a distant voice was whispering at her to tell Sam she couldn’t go to a dance, that she’d just had awful news that someone close to her family was dead and that she needed time to think about her life. But the words didn’t come.

‘Yes, but I…’ she said hesitantly. ‘It’s difficult, I’m in an awkward situation…’

She rubbed her forehead and chewed the inside of her cheek, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her in the direction of the town centre.

‘Let’s forget all our troubles tonight,’ he said, seeming to read her mind. ‘Let’s be two young people going to a dance. Nothing more, nothing less. The war, Hitler, whatever – they can all go to hell for a few hours. I know I could do with having some fun. Agreed?’

Betty felt a smile stretch across her face.

‘Agreed,’ she said. ‘I’d like that very much.’

She slotted her arm through his, pushed away the image of Robert that kept popping into her mind and focussed on Sam, this brave young man, so far from his home, so far from everything and everyone he knew. Just like her, he was reaching out for a friend in all the chaos and strangeness that was the spring of 1942.

---

‘You’re pretty good!’ Sam laughed. ‘You’ve done this before!’

‘No, I really haven’t!’ Betty replied breathlessly as she grabbed the bottom of her skirt and swished it to the music, an energetic rendition of ‘Bugle Boy’, played by a local band. She had to admit, she was pretty good at the basic jitterbug; and she had discovered that when she was dancing with Sam, all her troubles just flew out of her mind, as if each of her worries had wings. It made her want to keep dancing and never stop, but eventually she felt her legs begin to ache and her energy flag. She signalled to Sam that she needed a drink. He instantly stopped dancing and they pushed their way through crowds of young people over to the bar area, which was flooded with Canadian airmen and troops and girls from Poole and Bournemouth, chattering excitedly. Ordering drinks and finding them seats in a quieter part of the dancehall, Sam began to tell Betty about his life back home and how he’d dreamed of being a pilot since he was a small boy.

‘I’m due to be posted on active service any time soon,’ he continued. ‘It’s what I’ve wanted, but now it’s coming, I can’t lie, I guess I fear it’ll be a one-way journey. In my letters home I have to be careful how I word it all. I don’t want to worry my family. Oh hey, I’m sorry to be gloomy. Sometimes it just comes out.’

‘Do you have a sweetheart in Canada?’ she asked. Sam shook his head.

‘I was never interested in settling down,’ he explained. ‘I wanted to travel and see some of the world before I did. Besides, I’ve never found the right girl. And you?’

Betty found herself lost for words. Wishing she hadn’t brought up the subject of sweethearts, she swallowed hard. Not knowing how to tell him about her marriage to Robert, or the impossible situation she’d found herself in, she lowered her eyes and bit her bottom lip before giving him a small smile, trying to communicate that it was all too complicated to explain. Sam read her body language quite differently. Leaning over the table towards her as if he wanted to tell her something, he gave her a gentle kiss, first on the cheek and then on the lips. In her head a voice was yelling at her to pull her head away, get up from that table and walk back to her digs, but her body overruled her head and stayed rooted to the spot. Electrified, her lips tingled as she closed her eyes and kissed him back. Feeling as though she was floating up to the ceiling as the kiss continued, she felt as though she was watching herself from afar, shocked and excited by her own bold behaviour, but knowing deep down that she was playing a dangerous game.