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‘Frances?’ He seated hirass ‘Reht the planes went over the side? It’s over, Frances It’s time to move on’

She had turned to him slowly, her expression almost fearful, as if she could not trust herself to believe what he was saying

‘This is the beauty in it, Frances We’re allowed this No, we’re entitled to it’

Underlying the determination, there was a faint note of panic in his voice, as if she ht somehow disallow herself the chance to be happy, as if he, too, s for which she felt the need to atone

‘We’re entitled, you hear me? Both of us’

She had stared fiercely at her feet, and he had thought briefly that she was still closed to hi, as if her chest struggled to contain so emotion

A faint sound escaped her, and he saw she was s cluround for his

They had stayed there for some unknown period of tirass Chattering fa thely but without curiosity, a marine and his sweetheart, reunited after a lifetime spent apart

‘You are Nicol,’ she had told him, as she traced the still bruised lines of his face with her fingers ‘The captain told me Nicol Your name is Nicol’ The way she said it was joyful It made it sound like treasure

‘No,’ he said, with certainty, and as he spoke his voice sounded strange, unfamiliar even to himself, for it had been years since anyone had said this word ‘I am Henry’