Polly laid her head on Mike’s chest wondering at how quickly they had slipped into a couple’s roles and, with his arm around her shoulder, feeling safe in a way she had forgotten. He gave her so much she was unsure what she could offer in return, save warmth and something for him to hold onto. As he laid a reassuring hand on her knee she buried herself even closer in his side until she could hear his heart beating. Even in war it was possible to find peace, maybe contentment too Polly told herself her eyelids drooping.

‘Hey wake up sleepy head!’ Mike gave her a little shake. Polly pushed herself against him unwilling to open her eyes. The movement nudged Mike’s hand from her knee, his fingers slipping under her skirt’s hem and coming to rest a few inches higher up her thigh. ‘Just a few minutes more’ she said softly.

Watching Polly’s neat little bottom swish its way through the door Mike kicked himself for waking her. The image of him carrying her still sleeping to his bed was hard to suppress as was the memory of how his hand felt on her thigh – not the momentary accident when she woke but earlier when it had crept tentatively to her stocking top and the soft warm flesh an inch or so further. Why, when he was surrounded by a hundred women, did he have to fall for one who was a man?

Sally Potter could not wait for lights out when the hut’s other inhabitants would hopefully shut up and let her think of Jemima in peace. There was a lot to think about. Worryingly he had never fallen for anyone as swiftly or as deeply as she had for Jemima. The pilot was so pretty (‘boys aren’t supposed to be pretty!’) Sally never knew whether to kiss her or to tickle her into giggles. Kissing usually won out. Jemima even kissed like a girl, her lips parting slightly for Sally’s, so soft, often trembling. Her waist was so tiny Sally almost feared to hold Jemima in case she snapped her big oily mechanic’s hands but when she was held Jemima gave everything of herself. The only fly in the ointment was the hard rubber false breasts sewn into the corset she wore, what Sally would not give to feel their bodies together without them in between. What if Jemima had real breasts but was still a boy? Smiling, Sally drifted off to sleep.

‘Here it is’ Anthea said pulling the case from under her bed ‘I’m not sure you’re supposed to be up her at all you know’

‘Nonsense’ Verity replied ‘Kate Walton’s in and out of Polly’s room all hours… oh my!’ The last as Anthea opened the suitcase for her to see.

‘Kate helps out Polly a lot you’re not telling me there are rumours about her and Polly to?’

‘Rumours yes’ Verity said rummaging around in its contents ‘but not like that Kate’s inclinations are supposed to lay elsewhere… lipstick, perfume, proper stockings… where did you get all this?’

‘They gave us the lot when we finished training… what were you saying about Kate?’

‘Just rumours’ she picked out a lipstick ‘I don’t know her all that well. She wasn’t with us at Upavon… is this my colour?’ Anthea frowned women could be infuriating. ‘She and her twin brother raced aeroplanes before the war – their father’s something in the city – and somehow she managed to get passed the medical board…. No really is this my colour… disguised as her brother, for the Air Transport Auxiliary. She ferried Hurricanes for six weeks before anyone realised that Toby Walton was also flying Spitfires in 12 group… bit of a stink about it’

‘Hmm wonder where Mal found her’ Anthea said reminding herself to ask him over their next chess game ‘it looks lovely; you can have it… have it all if you like’

‘Oh no’ Verity said pocketing the lipstick ‘these are yours… I bet your legs look wonderful in these’. She held up a pair of black stockings.

Over the next thirty minutes Anthea was cajoled into the stockings, and plied with scent and cosmetics – all in blissful ignorance as Verity kept her away from the mirror until she had finished. When she was allowed to look the results were striking and she couldn’t resist a little preening. She might even give Jemima a run for her money.

‘Let’s go back downstairs’ Verity said taking Anthea’s hand.

‘Your room?’

‘No silly the mess I want to show off my protégé’ she laughed dragging Anthea to the door