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head. ‘Dean wasn’t there. I left my name and address again. It’s been two weeks since we auditioned. Anyway, I’m going down to see George tomorrow.’

‘All the way to her father’s house in Essex?’ Bill asked, concerned.

‘Yes. Betsy’s already there, she’s lodging with them – and George is going to get in touch with Artie. We’re meeting to discuss what we’re going to do if ENSA don’t want us.’ Margot strained the vegetables. ‘Apparently there’s an independent theatre group starting up. George’s dad is looking into it for us. Oh, and there’s Stars in Uniforms. Not sure we fit the bill, but if all else fails...’

‘Promise you’ll leave before it gets dark, Margot? The train will be coming through the East End. The stations are always being targeted. And the raids are starting earlier.’

‘Of course I will! But I have to go, Bill.’ She spooned a couple of roast potatoes onto her plate and the rest onto Bill’s before putting the oven dish on the draining board. After adding vegetables and gravy to both plates, Margot sat down to eat her Sunday lunch.

The following morning Margot caught the 11.45 train from Liverpool Street to Ongar, promising to catch the 3.20 back so Bill could meet her and take her home when he’d finished at the MoD. That way they could have an early supper together before he went to Tommy’s.

For once – probably because it was to do with show business – Margot was as good as her word and arrived back as promised. She ran across the platform and out through the exit. Bill, sitting astride his motorbike, had seen her and was waving. Out of breath, she fell into his arms. ‘We’ve got to think of something else to keep us together until the theatre re-opens.’

‘You don’t have to, Margot, I--’

‘I know,’ she said, stopping him from speaking further by kissing him. ‘I know you’ll look after me.’ She kissed him again. ‘And I’m going to let you. I’m going to stop trying to prove myself – and stop being so selfish. My poor Bill,’ she said, looking into her husband’s soft brown eyes. ‘I didn’t consider what you were going through when I was in hospital. All I could think about was Nancy and how I was going to miss her – and of course whether or not the hospital would be bombed. And when I got back from Foxden, all I could think about was how I wanted to join ENSA – and how George, Betsy and I could stay together. I’ve been so selfish! Am so selfish! I don’t mean to be,’ she cried. ‘I do love you, Bill. Can you ever forgive me?’

Bill laughed. ‘I know you do. And there’s nothing to forgive, you silly goose.’

Margot smiled thinly through her tears. ‘Thank you. Not many men would put up with me, I know that.’

Bill held Margot by the shoulders and looked into her eyes before putting his hand under her chin and lifting her face to his. ‘You’re not selfish. Maybe a little self-orientated perhaps, but that’s who you are. You’re driven and ambitious, but you’re not selfish.’ Taking a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his jacket, he wiped the tears from her eyes. Then he kissed her. ‘Better?’

Margot nodded and said again that she was sorry. Bill put his arms around her and pulled her close. ‘You don’t have anything to be sorry for,’ he whispered.

‘Thank you for saying that, but I do,’ Margot said, taking Bill’s handkerchief, blowing her nose and then giving it back to him. ‘But I’m going to make it up to you. I’m going to be a good wife. I shall cook all your favourite meals – well, those that I can get the ingredients for. Your slippers will be by the fire and your dinner will be on the table every night as soon as you get home. Oh,’ she said, as an afterthought, ‘I shall keep the house spotless. I’ll wash and iron--’

‘No you won’t!’

‘Yes I will!’ Margot said, indignantly. ‘I want to and I’m going to. I know I haven’t always had the time, but--’

‘Stop!’ Bill shouted, laughing. ‘Stop talking for one minute you silly, beautiful, wonderful girl, and listen to what I’m trying to tell you.’

Margot began to say she was sorry again, but thought better of it.

‘I’ve been trying to tell you about this!’ Putting his hand into his jacket pocket again, he brought out an envelope. ‘It came for you this morning,’ he said, handing it to her. ‘It’s from ENSA. I opened it before I saw it was addressed to you.’

Margot’s mouth fell open. ‘Why did they write to me?’

Bill laughed. ‘It couldn’t be because you’ve been pestering them?’

‘I only dropped a letter in, and telephoned a few times… Oh Bill! You realise what this means, don’t you?’

‘It means the Albert Sisters are officially members of ENSA.’

‘Yes, but rehearsals start on Wednesday – 9 am,’ she said, in a subdued whisper.

‘What’s the matter? It is what you want, isn’t it?’

‘Give me your hankie,’ she said, as tears rolled down her cheeks. After wiping her face Margot looked up at her husband. ‘What about you? What about all the promises I just made you? About being a proper wife, being there when you get home at night, cooking your dinner?’

‘And you will, when you come back. It’ll only be for a few months – six at most. When the theatre re-opens you might not have to go out with ENSA again. Then everything will be back to normal. If you can call being bombed nightly normal,’ he said, trying to make light of the situation.

Margot looked at the letter in her hand, and then at Bill. ‘I don’t know what to say. I don’t deserve you.’

Bill shook his head and laughed. ‘Then say

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