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his mug of tea and take off. Elizabeth didn’t need him for the moment, and there was a wealth of photographs yet to be taken. The Courier-Mail intended to accompany Elizabeth’s feature story with a pictorial souvenir lift-out section devoted entirely to Aldershot’s military centennial celebrations.
    â€˜So tell me about yourself, Lieutenant,’ Elizabeth said when Walter had gone and they’d settled themselves in the only two spare canvas chairs at the far end of one of the trestle tables. ‘How long have you been stationed in Aldershot?’
    â€˜Only a few months,’ he replied. ‘I graduated from Sandhurst just last year.’
    â€˜Ah.’ She gave a nod and smiled, inwardly congratulating herself. ‘I thought so.’
    â€˜It shows that much, does it?’
    â€˜Well, yes, it does rather. You’re very young.’
    â€˜Twenty’s not that young. Not when it comes to a war.’ There was no belligerence in his tone, but he was quite firmly correcting her. ‘Men much younger than me have died for this country.’
    â€˜Oh.’ Elizabeth felt instantly contrite. ‘Oh God, how awful of me.’ She’d just treated him in the very same manner she herself so detested. ‘I didn’t mean to patronise. I’m sorry, Lieutenant.’
    â€˜You didn’t patronise, and you don’t need to be sorry, and the name’s Daniel.’ He grinned, eager to put her at her ease. ‘No offence taken, I assure you. But if you really want to make amends …’ He looked at her hopefully. ‘Do I get to call you Elizabeth?’
    She laughed. His boyishness was disarming and she was thankful to be so easily forgiven. ‘Elizabeth it is.’ Then her manner briskly reverted to that of interviewer. ‘So, Daniel, you’re with what unit?’ she asked, pencil poised over notepad.
    â€˜I’m actually with the Royal Army Service Corps. Transport.’
    She noted it down. ‘And you were posted here to Aldershot direct from the Academy?’
    â€˜That’s right. How about you?’
    â€˜I beg your pardon?’ She looked up.
    â€˜Are you from Aldershot?’ She didn’t look like a country girl, he thought.
    â€˜No. I’m from London.’
    â€˜Oh. Right.’ Well, that made more sense. ‘So why’d you pick Aldershot?’ He was genuinely intrigued. ‘I mean, Aldershot of all places – seems strange to me.’
    â€˜Why don’t I ask the questions,’ she said firmly, but not unkindly. He didn’t appear to be flirting, indeed she found him most pleasant, but wiser to keep things on track, she thought.
    â€˜Sorry.’ He shrugged apologetically. ‘It’s just that I’ve never met a female reporter before, and it’s really interesting. I wondered why you chose Aldershot, that’s all.’
    â€˜I didn’t. Aldershot chose me.’ There was something so ingenuous about young Daniel Gardiner that Elizabeth felt a sudden obligation to give an honest answer. ‘The editor of The Courier-Mail is a brave, modern-thinking man who believes in allowing a woman journalist a chance.’ She recalled the steady stream of rejections she’d received from the other provincial editors to whom she’d sent applications – over fifty in all. ‘Believe me, there are many who don’t.’
    â€˜Oh, I see.’
    Daniel did. From the candour of her response, and the flash of rebellion in her eyes, Daniel saw a great deal. Elizabeth Hoffmann was not only good-looking, she was intelligent and tenacious and downright fascinating. He put his mug on the table and leaned forward on his elbows, keen to discover more. ‘What made you want to become a journalist, Elizabeth?’
    But the boyish enthusiasm didn’t work a second time. In his eagerness, he’d just overstepped the mark.
    â€˜Let’s get on with the