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like John and I are most likely to see some fun. If Jerry sends his planes to bomb London, we’ll have to stop him. Or, as we’re closest to France,
we might get sent there to support the Army when Herr Hitler invades, which he’s certain to do. Then of course there’s the Channel, and protecting the shipping lanes. However this war
turns out, we’ll be at the main party. It’s terrific news.’
    Gwen stared down at her plate; Diana looked thoughtful. After a short silence, Mr Arnold cleared his throat.
    ‘Well, Mr Blackwell, I can see why this is good news for you both, and I congratulate you, I do, really. Forgive us, but from our side of the matter it will mean . . . well, a good deal of
worry about our son.’ He inclined his head. ‘And, of course, yourself.’
    ‘A good deal of worry? This is terrible news, Oliver – just
terrible
.’ Gwen had lifted her head and was glaring at her husband. ‘Why does it have to be James?
Why can’t he go and defend somewhere else – oh, I don’t know,
Wales
or somewhere? Why should they put our boy
directly
in harm’s way?’
    She turned to their visitor. ‘And how can you talk about it being “fun”? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but surely you realise . . .’
    Her husband raised a hand. ‘Darling, please stop.’ He smiled faintly at their guest. ‘Forgive us, Mr Blackwell, we need a little time to absorb this. We’ve only been at
war for three days so there’s been a lot to take in. I’m sure your own mother will be as concerned as we are when she hears your news.’
    His son came back into the room. ‘Taxi’ll be here in half an hour, so we’d better get ready.’ He stared at them all. ‘Good God, why does everyone look so
boot-faced? Jimmy, you haven’t told them one of your awful jokes, have you?’
    Nobody smiled.
    ‘Mr Blackwell’s been telling us about Eleven Group,’ Diana said in a small voice. ‘It sounds rather dangerous, that’s all. Mum’s a bit upset.’
    Her brother walked over to Gwen and kissed the top of her head. ‘Nothing to worry about,’ he said cheerfully. ‘We’re flying Spitfires, remember? There’s nothing to
touch a Spit. I’ve got eight machine guns to swat the blighters with and a ruddy great engine in front of me to keep the bullets off. Piece of cake.’ He turned to his friend.
‘Half an hour, Jimmy. The CO says we’ve got to fly to Upminster by five o’clock. That’s our new base. Shame it’s in Essex and not Kent, but you can’t have
everything.’
    His father stood up. ‘What am I thinking of? I can run you both to the station myself. Cancel your cab, John.’
    The young man shook his head. ‘Uh-uh. There’s a war on. You’re going to need every drop of petrol for yourself. It’s bound to be rationed sooner or later. Which reminds
me – I reckon I’ll get myself a motor bike. Upminster can’t be more than twenty or thirty miles from here, so when I’m not on flying duty I can roar down here and see you
all, even if it’s only for an afternoon.’
    He turned to his mother. ‘See, Mum? It’s not all bad news. You’ll soon be sick of the sight of me.’
    Gwen stood up and kissed his cheek. ‘I very much doubt that, dear.’ She drew a deep breath and turned to James.
    ‘Mr Blackwell, I must apologise for my loss of control just now. It was perfectly selfish of me. Please say you forgive me.’
    ‘There’s nothing to forgive, Mrs Arnold,’ he replied. ‘But I shall only let it pass if you all stop calling me Mr Blackwell. From now on, I insist you call me
James.’
    Mr Arnold inclined his head in agreement. James it is, then.
    He looked at his watch. ‘And now, everyone, war or no war, I must go to work.’

13
    When Diana arrived back at Cambridge for the Michaelmas Term, she was disconcerted to see how few male undergraduates now cycled around the town. There were a great many more
young men strolling about in uniform, though. It unsettled her and she was glad