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‘I’m not saying wives and sweethearts don’t feel the pain of grief but I’ve been around death enough to know that men often talk about their mums in the moments they slip away, and it’s the mothers of soldiers who send a lot of the parcels of welcome treats. Maybe I’m wrong but I believe it’s mainly the mothers who risk never getting past the loss. Wives, dare I suggest, have children to distract them, to love them or, if not, then they have the potential to find love again. But Rose Fletcher has lost both her sons to different wars, and I don’t regret bringing Tom back to her through his unfinished letter and his few private belongings. He did have a secret sweetheart, I think. Another reason I’ve lingered – I thought I might find her.’

‘No luck yet?’

‘I haven’t begun looking. She’s the girl who I think may have worked at Rowntree’s.’

‘Ah, I see. You did this for a stranger? I mean, a soldier who was a stranger, not even of your regiment?’

He nodded.

‘How oddly romantic that is.’

She watched a brief, self-conscious smile break before he sighed. ‘I need to end my war and return to my life.’

‘Why haven’t you?’ She glanced at her watch.

‘Because of you.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve offended you and now I must make amends. I want us to be friends before I leave. It seems as important to me now as returning Tom’s possessions to his mother felt months ago.’

‘Your train is nearly here,’ she said, astonished by his claim and unable to think of anything more relevant to say.

‘And your tram has arrived.’ He nodded over her shoulder towards the shuffling queue.

Alex looked around, further taken aback that she hadn’t heard its noisy arrival, or been aware of what was happening around her. Something about Harry Blake consumed her, wrapped its addictive arms around her and reeled her in. Here she was, watching the last few people clamber onto the tram and making no attempt to move away from him.

‘There’ll be another one soon enough,’ she said casually, giving herself over to instinct. ‘It’s worth missing the tram to hear your apology.’

‘Then I shall miss my train to make that apology properly,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you and your husband would care to have dinner with me tonight?’

‘Overnight in York again?’ she said, mostly playing for time as her thoughts scattered to every plausible reason for not accepting his invitation.

‘Well, it’s true now that I have unfinished business here and you might be able to help me with it, actually.’

‘Mr Blake —’

‘Harry,’ he corrected.

‘Harry, my husband Matthew is not in York at present and it could – no, would – be considered unseemly for me to be dining with a gentleman who is not a member of our immediate circle.’

‘It could be just as unseemly if I were, surely? But what are you afraid of?’

‘I am not afraid, but people like my mother have eyes and ears open only for this very sort of situation to gossip about. All sorts of fantastical stories somehow find legs to run vigorously around a city such as this.’

‘Then let’s invite your mother – both your parents, if you wish? I can book a table for a dozen or more and we can invite all their closest friends too.’

She laughed and her amusement broke the tension. She watched the taut expression in Harry’s face relax, his dark eyebrows loosening either side of the bunched furrow in his forehead.

‘You have the most infectious laughter,’ he admitted.

Alex sighed. ‘I can’t, Harry. This is a small city, believe it or not, with a tendency to be small-minded.’ She was surprised at how wretched her denial made her feel because the truth was she did want to fill another lonely evening in the company of this handsome man with his direct manner and easy conversation. And yet despite his confident way she sensed something fragmented within him that tugged at her heart.

‘Nevertheless, while I cannot meet you for dinner, I can certainly extend an invitation for you to join me for supper at the house, if you wish? I would be glad to . . . break bread with you this evening and let’s see if I can’t make this trip of yours feel happier still – I would like to help you with your unfinished business.’

‘Your husband would not find that odd? I mean, me coming to your house?’

‘Far less odd, I suspect, than people telling him I was seen dining out and about with a handsome stranger.’ That description was a mistake; she heard it as it left her lips.

Her companion had the grace not to mention it but the amusement in his eyes that glimmered beneath the spilling lamplight of the shop’s doorway left her in no doubt at all that he’d heard the slip. ‘Well, that would be absolutely delightful.’

She swallowed her embarrassment and straightened. ‘Very good. Shall we say eight? No need for a dinner suit. I shall be asking Norma to put together something simple as she was only expecting me home tonight and I was seriously considering a sandwich and cup of cocoa around the fire.’