about valour and respect. He had no choice tonight, he had to tell Dolly the truth and, really, what harm could possibly come? ‘It was of a little girl whose family was killed the other night in a raid over Cheapside way. It was sad, Doll, terribly sad, she was smiling, you see, and wearing—’ He stopped himself and waved his hand, he could tell by Dolly’s expression she was losing patience. ‘That’s not important—the thing is, your friend knew her. Vivien recognised her from the picture.’
‘How?’
It was the first word she’d spoken since their meals arrived, and although it wasn’t exactly unreserved forgiveness, Jimmy lightened. ‘She told me she has a friend, a doctor, who runs a small private hospital over in Fulham. He turned over part of it to care for war orphans and she helps him sometimes. That’s where she met Nella, the little girl in the photograph. She’d been taken there, you see, when no one else came forward to claim her.’
Dolly was watching him, waiting for him to continue, but there wasn’t anything more he could think to say.
‘That’s it?’ said Dolly. ‘You didn’t tell her anything about yourself?’ ‘Not even my name, there wasn’t time.’ In the distance, from somewhere in the dark cold London night there came a series of explosions. Jimmy wondered suddenly who was being hit, who was screaming right now with pain and grief and horror as their world came down around them.
‘And she didn’t say anything else?’
Jimmy shook his head. ‘Not about the hospital. I was about to ask her if I could go with her one day, take something for Nella—’
‘You didn’t though?’
‘I didn’t get a chance.’
‘And that’s the only reason you were being so evasive—because Vivien told you she helps her doctor friend in his hospital?’
He felt foolish in the face of Dolly’s incredulity. He smiled and shrank a bit and cursed himself for always taking things so seriously, for not realising that of course Vivien had been overstating things, and of course Dolly already knew—that he’d been agonising over nothing. He said, a bit limply, ‘She begged me not to tell anyone.’
‘Oh, Jimmy,’ Dolly said, laughing as she reached across the table to brush his arm gently. ‘Vivien didn’t mean me. She meant for you not to tell other people, of course—strangers.’
‘I know.’ Jimmy stilled her hand in his, felt her smooth fingers beneath his own. ‘It was stupid of me not to realise. I’m not myself tonight.’ He was aware suddenly that he was standing at the edge of something; that the rest of his life, their life together, began on the other side. ‘In fact,’ he said again, his voice cracking just a little, ‘there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you, Doll.’
Dolly had been smiling distractedly as Jimmy stroked her hand. A doctor friend, a male friend—Kitty had been right, Vivien had a lover, and suddenly everything made sense. The secrecy, Vivien’s frequent absences from the WVS canteen, the distant expression on her face as she sat in the window at number 25 Campden Grove, dreaming. She said, ‘I wonder how they met,’ just as Jimmy was saying, ‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you, Doll.’
It was the second time that night they’d spoken at once, and Dolly laughed. ‘We have to stop doing that,’ she said. She felt unexpectedly lucent and giggly, as if she could laugh all night. Perhaps it was the wine. She’d had more to drink than she realised. Then again, the relief at knowing Jimmy hadn’t revealed himself made her feel rather euphoric. ‘I was just saying—’
‘No,’ he reached to press a fingertip to her lips. ‘Let me finish, Doll.
I have to finish.’
His expression took her by surprise, it was one she didn’t see often, determined, almost urgent, and although she was desperate to know more about Vivien and her doctor friend, Dolly closed her mouth.
Jimmy let his hand slip sideways to caress her cheek. ‘Doro-thy Smitham,’ he said, and something inside her caught at the way he said her name. She melted. ‘I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. Do you remember, that cafe in Coventry?’
‘You were carrying a bag of flour.’
He laughed. ‘A true hero. That’s me.’
She smiled and pushed her empty plate aside. She lit a cigarette. It was cold, she realised, the radiator had stopped ticking. ‘Well, it was a very big bag.’
‘I’ve told you before there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.’
She nodded. He had, of course,