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A nurse knocked lightly on the door and poked her head around it. Her name was Maria and she spoke good English, having worked privately for an English family, looking after the children, in her early days of nurse training.

‘Peter?’ He’d insisted they all stop referring to him so formally with his official title. ‘I have a visitor for you.’

He expected one of the lads, although he’d already had one slightly rowdy visit from his colleagues to celebrate his survival. They’d brought the news that his foe had not escaped fully.

‘You’re kidding!’ Peter exclaimed. ‘He went down?’

‘I didn’t know you’d hit him either,’ the other pilot said. ‘He flew on, then spluttered and dropped his arse into the drink.’

‘He got out, surely?’

‘Yes, picked up. But hopefully the sod won’t be flying for the Luftwaffe again this war.’

‘Actually, I’d like to meet him again in a dogfight,’ Peter said with a smirk. ‘I could take him.’

Now Peter saw the girl from the water’s edge emerge hesitantly from behind the door. ‘Oh hello,’ he said, delighted to see her again. ‘It’s Valentina, isn’t it?’

She smiled brightly. ‘I didn’t think you’d remember me from yesterday.’

‘I never forget a kind face,’ he said. Valentina blushed.

The nurse gave her a look. ‘I’ll be back,’ she said and gently shoved the visitor forward. ‘He doesn’t bite.’

She left the door ajar and they were alone.

‘Did I ever thank you properly?’ Peter said.

‘For what?’

‘For holding my hand when I wasn’t quite sure if I was coming to or dying.’ He smiled at her.

‘I… I didn’t know what else to do. I saw you fighting against the Messerschmitt, bravely dodging this way and that. Then suddenly you were on fire, the engine was, er, coughing, and I just prayed you’d get out of that Spitfire.’

He was impressed she knew the names of the aircraft. ‘Did you see me bale out?’

She nodded. ‘I couldn’t breathe, especially when the plane tipped. I don’t think I took a breath until I saw your parachute open.’

‘Why were you watching the air raid anyway, Valentina?’

It struck him that she now looked a bit embarrassed. ‘I didn’t leave like everyone else when the siren went. I got into a lot of trouble over that.’

Peter gave a nod that was filled with sympathy as much as understanding. ‘Well, if I was one of your parents, I too would have been cross. You could have been hurt.’

She shrugged. ‘You were fighting to keep me safe. I needed to watch you survive.’

How idealistic her view was. He wished he still had that innocence, but the war had changed him. She was a pretty child, especially for someone supposed to be in her awkward teen years. He was gangly and pimply at the same age, but this girl had a smooth complexion, her rich, raisin-coloured hair falling in thick waves. Her eyes were as dark as charcoal, yet seemed to possess a luminosity, and an intelligence. ‘So, you like to watch us pilots fly?’

‘Yes! I know it’s dangerous, but I’m so tired of running for cover, trembling in the tunnels, being so frightened all the time. You and the other pilots make me feel brave.’

He nodded. ‘I know you’ve all suffered enough from the German bombardment. I don’t think any country has endured more bombings and strafings than Malta. You’re all very brave. But next time you should go underground.’

He could see his praise had reached her, but now she pursed her lips. ‘It’s horrid down there,’ she explained. ‘Have you ever been into the tunnels?’

He shook his head.

‘Well, it’s dark, it’s damp, it’s crowded, it smells⁠—’

‘But it’s safe,’ he cut in. ‘In London, while they don’t live underground, they do use the train subway system that runs beneath the city. Everyone heads underground into the network of rail tracks where it’s safe – a bit like your Knights Hospitaller tunnels.’ He grinned, noting her pleasure at his reference to the Knights. ‘Do you have brothers and sisters?’