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drink down your suit,’ she laughed.

‘God no, don’t do that. I hired it. It’ll be going to a wedding next week and a funeral the week after.’

Ena laughed until she saw the serious look on his face. ‘You are joking? Tell me you’re joking,’ she said, standing on tiptoe, looking into Henry’s eyes for signs of a smile.

‘I’m joking!’

Ena laughed again, loudly. ‘You liar!’ she said, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘Gin and tonic, please.’

‘It was dandelion and burdock the last time I took you out.’

Looking at Henry, quizzically, Ena leaned away from him. ‘Now I know you’re lying. If you had ever taken me out, I think I’d remember.’

 ‘Elephant Boy, The Ritz Cinema, Lowarth, 1937. You were thirteen, or fourteen. Bess and I had to sit though it twice. You insisted on sitting in the middle of us. We couldn’t even hold hands.’

‘You’re doing it again.’

Henry frowned, scrunched his shoulders, and held out his hands, palms up.

‘I give up!’ Ena said, ‘I can’t tell whether you’re lying or telling the truth.’

‘Claire had chicken pox, or some other child’s ailment, and had to stay at home.’

‘Oh my God. You’re right. I remember now. It was a Rudyard Kipling story about an Indian boy.’

‘Toomai.’

‘He wanted to be a big game hunter when he grew up.’

‘His father was an elephant driver--’

‘And he had a pet elephant.’ Ena hooted with laughter. ‘Now I feel embarrassed.’

‘And so you should, calling me a liar.’

The band began to play “I’m Playing With Fire”. ‘Come on,’ Ena said, putting down her drink and dragging Henry to his feet. ‘You’ve got to dance at least once.’ Ena scanned the dance floor.

‘Why? Who are you looking for?’

‘Binkie. Or one of her friends.’ Ena laughed. ‘Binkie bet me ten shillings that I couldn’t get you to dance tonight.’ Ena watched the smile disappear from Henry’s face. ‘But that isn’t why I’m dancing with you.’ When the band finished playing, they walked back to their table.

‘Honor Brinklow can be a bully, and her so-called friends are as bad. Be careful, Ena.’

‘I will,’ Ena said, hating herself for telling Henry about the bet. She’d done it again – said too much, let her mouth run away from her to make a stupid joke. She could have kicked herself. They were having fun and she’d spoiled it.

‘Another drink?’ Henry asked, and not giving her time to reply, set off for the bar.

‘I’ll get the next round,’ Ena said, when Henry returned, ‘I don’t expect you to buy my drinks all night.’ Henry was looking across the room. ‘After all,’ she said, following his gaze, ‘it was me who invited you to the dance.’ Henry didn’t appear to have heard her. Damn, she had put her foot in it again.

‘Come on, Ena,’ Now it was Henry’s turn to pull her to her feet. ‘Honor Brinklow is over by the door watching us. I’ll win you that ten shillings.’

‘You don’t have to, Henry.’

‘Yes I do. Ten shillings is nothing to Honor Brinklow, but she hates to lose.’ Henry held Ena close and looked dreamily into her eyes. Ena laughed. ‘What is it now?’

‘You,’ Ena giggled. Unable to help herself, she laughed out loud. Henry swung her round several times, lifting her almost off her feet. They danced until the band announced they were taking a twenty-minute break, and then walked back to their seats laughing like a pair of teenagers.

Ena took her purse from her handbag. ‘I’m going to buy you a drink.’

‘No you’re not,’ someone said at her shoulder. ‘At least not yet.’ Ena looked up to see Binkie at her side with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She put them on the table. ‘Enjoy, children.’

‘Champagne!’ Ena exclaimed. ‘Where on earth did you get champagne?’

‘The Honourable Lady Dibbs, dear. But shush, don’t tell everyone, or they’ll all want a bottle,’ Binkie whispered. ‘Can’t stop, darlings. Ciao.’

‘Thank you,’ Henry called to Binkie, as she turned to leave.

‘Don’t thank me, dear heart, thank Ena for stepping in at the last minute and making Dibbs and the rest of us look divine.’ Binkie pretended to pat her hair into place as she danced across the room. She disappeared among her crowd who were shouting, ‘Where have you been?’ and ‘Champagne for Binkie!’

Ena laughed and poured two glasses of champagne. Henry shook his head and pushed his glass into the middle of the table.

‘I’ll have that, if it’s going begging,’ Freda said, arriving almost immediately after Binkie had left. She fell into the nearest seat, reached across the table, and pulled the glass of pale bubbles towards her. ‘Thought I’d never get here. Some friends took me to the local pub. Hello?’ she purred, making a show of noticing Henry, ‘I’m Ena’s work colleague, Freda.’

‘Yes, I know. How do you do, I’m Henry.’

‘Henry? But--’ Freda eyed Ena suspiciously and with a nod, tutted. ‘Of course it is. Silly me. How do you do, Henry?’ Freda shook Henry’s hand, sat down, and picked up Henry’s champagne. ‘Cheers!’

Both women were content with champagne but Henry wanted beer and went to the bar, leaving them to chat. ‘I thought you were walking out with an American named Ben?’ Freda said.

‘I am. Henry’s an old friend from Lowarth. I told you that I’d seen him at the Park. It’s because he works here that I asked him if he would accompany me tonight.’

‘What about Ben?’

‘Ben works in London. There wasn’t time to write and tell him about the dance. I – we – didn’t even know about it until yesterday.’

‘I suppose.’ Freda narrowed her eyes. ‘So tell me. What does Henry do at Bletchley Park?’

‘Something to do with communications. Beyond that, I have no idea.’

As Henry returned, the band started to play. He hadn’t had

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