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    â€˜It’s all right, Mum, we know!’
    â€˜Don’t fuss! We’ve done it hundreds of times!’
    â€˜Yes, and you’ve burned your socks hundreds of times too,’ she rejoined. ‘There’s not room for both of you in there. I’m surprised Sergeant Button hasn’t seen you riding like it before now and given you a piece of his mind.’
    â€˜They’re all right, Amy. They enjoy it, don’t you girls?’ Ralph swung himself over the side of the car on the driver’s side with the ease of years of practice and and advantage afforded by being over six feet tall and, in spite of approaching middle age, athletically built.
    Looking at him standing there beside the car Amy found herself remembering the first time she had seen him when she had run into this same precious car with the lorry. He had been wearing the flying jacket and boots then which were a necessity in an open car on a cold spring day instead of the open necked shirt and cavalry twills he was sporting today, and his hair had been thick and dark. Well, it was still thick, but the black was now etched at the temples with grey and his moustache, too, was pepper and salt. But this in no way detracted from his good looks. He was, Amy thought, as attractive as he had ever been, as if he had somehow been made for maturity. A small quiver tickled the pit of her stomach and she gave herself a little shake. Nine years married and he could still do this to her!
    â€˜I would have thought you wanted your brains testing, all of you!’ she said. ‘I can just imagine the ructions if I asked them to squeeze into one seat of my car!’
    â€˜Oh, your car! Your car’s just a boring old Ford,’ Maureen teased.
    â€˜I couldn’t very well pass them by and not pick them up now could I?’ Ralph demanded. ‘There they were, plodding along the lane …’
    â€˜ I just plodded along the lane!’.
    â€˜And if I’d seen you I’d have picked up you as well.’ Ralph came around and kissed her. ‘Especially as you look as if you’ve had a hard day.’
    She flipped at him with the back of her hand. ‘I do not!’
    â€˜All right, let’s go and have a cup of tea anyway. I hope you’ve got the kettle on.’
    â€˜Of course.’
    A high-pitched droning, loud in the still air, made them all look up. A plane was passing over, quite low, the sun glinting on the silver tail, the red white and blue bullseye marking on the fuselage clearly visible. For a moment they were all silent watching it. Once an aeroplane had been a fairly rare sight, now the skies seemed to positively hum with activity – another portent of the war which everyone was coming to believe was inevitable.
    â€˜Training flight, probably,’ Ralph said. It was a sensible assumption; there was a flying school in Filton and another at Hullavington, just over the border in Wiltshire.
    â€˜I bet it’s not,’ Maureen said. ‘I bet it’s Huw with the plane he picked up, coming round to have a look at us. Has anybody got a white hanky – Ralph?’ She fished her own small square of lace edged cotton out of her pocket and began to wave madly.
    â€˜Don’t be silly. He went hours ago.’ Barbara’s voice was impatient and Amy looked at her in surprise. That didn’t sound in the least like Barbara. Normally she would be first to hop up and down and wave – particularly where Huw was involved. And Maureen, too, was looking a little shamefaced suddenly where usually she would have snapped back in that inimitable way sisters have …
    â€˜Never mind Huw – how about that cup of tea? Ralph said and Amy came back to earth with a jolt.
    â€˜The kettle is probably boiling away like mad.’
    They went into the kitchen. Whilst they had been outside the kettle had come to the boil and steam hung in a heavy cloud around the chains of