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suitable company when you’re on leave. Meg’s a lively girl, you’ll enjoy a nice evening out with her and it doesn’t have to be serious.’ That meant Meg was suitable company, but not to be considered as a serious prospect.
    ‘No, Meg’s not coming,’ I said, ‘she’s going to the flicks tonight with Bob Micklewright. I’m taking you.’
    ‘You said good news.’ Aunt May was rolling dough on the kitchen table. ‘That’s not good news.’
    ‘It’s good enough for me,’ I said, ‘so you can get your best hat ready.’
    Aunt May shook her head and laughed. ‘You’re a funny one, Tim,’ she said, ‘but you’ll have to get down to being serious sometime.’
    ‘There’s a war on, old girl, that’s serious enough at the moment. Let’s get that over with first.’
    ‘Yes, but I can’t help thinking about your future,’ said Aunt May, ‘I’m not going to have you turning into a stuffy bachelor.’
    ‘Listen, I’m only twenty-two.’
    ‘All the same,’ she said. I think she’d spent the last twenty years with my future in mind. But what about herself? What would her future be like if I got married? I honestly didn’t like the thought of Aunt May being alone.
    ‘What’re you making?’ I asked.
    ‘A plum pie for tomorrow’s dinner with some bottled plums.’
    ‘You lovely old darling,’ I said.
    ‘Watch your tongue, young man,’ said Aunt May, ‘you’ll be putting wrinkles on me next.’
    ‘Not you,’ I said. She didn’t have a single wrinkle, she looked nowhere near her age. The man who’d have married her if he hadn’t lost his life in revolutionary Russia, had missed years of lovely living with Aunt May.
    We had an early tea. The fat kippers were first-class. When we left the house Aunt May looked a treat in a spring coat and her nicest hat. She knew how to wear clothes. We took a bus up West and got on the tail of the queue for the upper circle of the theatre. The West End had a colourful atmosphere because of the sunshine, the girls and the many different uniforms.
    The country was suffering strict rationing at home and perils abroad. In 1940 and 1941 it had suffered bombs at home. London houses and buildings had been flattened and this made the old place look ruined in parts. But fat old Goering’s Luftwaffe hadn’t flattened spirits and the people themselves didn’t look ruined. The West End swarmed with pleasure-seekers, particularly Americans, who knew how to enjoy themselves. Nor did they waste time asking if there were any rules. They picked up cockney girls and suburban girls with no effort at all. They had no inhibitions when it came to making the necessary approach.
    Aunt May’s spring coat, bright hat and young-looking appearance put her in the firing line. I wasn’t in the least surprised when a veteran GI, a sergeant who looked as if he might have served as a rookie doughboy in 1918, advanced on the queue with his eyes on Aunt May.
    ‘Pardon me, bud,’ he said, ‘you doing anything special with your sister?’
    ‘No, nothing specially special, just queueing,’ I said. ‘And how did you know she was my sister?’
    ‘Family likeness, I guess,’ he said. He was having me on, of course, and paying Aunt May a compliment. ‘I’m a loner right now. My date took one look at my best friend and pranced off with him. I guess my maturity put her off. How about asking your sister if I could borrow her for the evening? I’ve a coupla stalls’ tickets for the Strand Theatre and we could catch some eats at Romano’s joint afterwards. I’ll see her home, bud, give you my word.’
    ‘Well, there you are, sis,’ I said to Aunt May, who had a laugh in her eyes, of course. ‘D’you fancy the Strand Theatre with this American gent?’
    ‘Ask the gentleman if he’s married,’ said Aunt May as the queue began to move forward.
    ‘Are you married?’ I asked the mature Yank.
    ‘Sure am. To Alma McKinley of Chicago. Only she’s over there and I’m over here. You