‘Now then,’ Smith went on, deliberately brisk-voiced as he took her hand. ‘You realize what this means, don’t you?’ ‘Do I realize what what means?’ She was still ashen-faced. ‘You and I are all washed up,’ Smith explained patiently. ‘Finished. In Italy, in north-west Europe. I won’t even be allowed to fight as a soldier because if I were captured I’d still be shot as a spy.’ ‘So?’ ‘So, for us, the war is over. For the first time we can think of ourselves. OK?’ He squeezed her hand and she smiled shakily in reply. ‘OK Wing Commander, may I use your radio?’
