A part of her was sorry to be parting from Simon, because the second half of their holiday had been much nicer. Simon had been different in London, more relaxed, and they’d gone out to the theatre and restaurants, and drunk a lot of champagne, which Simon always seemed able to find; perhaps because he was well known at the places they visited. She had decided that it was just being with his family that made him seem different, and this time he took her back to Liverpool on the train, taking a lingering farewell of her. ‘I’m not sure if I can get leave at Christmas or New Year,’ he told her. ‘But I’ll let you know as soon as I can.’ ‘If you can’t I shall go home to Frances,’ Emily said. ‘I know I’ve got two days for New Year so do your best, but send me a postcard or something this time, Simon. Please?’ ‘Yes, of course, I’m sorry,’ he said, and touched her cheek. ‘I don’t mean to be careless or hurt you, darling. I want to make you happy, but I’m an odd creature, you ask my family.
