It was quite common, Wilson reflected, to have Mainwaring drop the various letters from Head Office on his counter with the general request to 'deal with this' and it was his job to work out what needed to be prioritised and actioned accordingly. What was less common, and somewhat concerning, was the way the order was given.

Mainwaring always appeared somewhat distracted when faced with paperwork and would often offer some complaint about red tape, but he'd seemed oddly pleased about something for the past week or so. Ever since they'd had the interviews for female members of the platoon, actually. He'd even smiled as he handed Wilson the letters. He hadn't smiled this much since they'd first received their rifles, Wilson considered, and wondered if one of the ladies possibly had something to do with it. Not that he had any issue with it himself – after all, he could hardly be said to be a paragon of virtue in that respect, what with the long-standing arrangement he'd had for nearly 20 years, and Mainwaring's wife being, well, a bit odd – but it was strange to see, all the same.

After a quick glance through the letters, Wilson knocked on the office door. As he entered, there was an unusual scent in the room, like a match, although to the best of his knowledge, Mainwaring didn't smoke at work or on parade, and was strongly discouraged from doing so at home. There was also the distinct impression that his manager had jumped back suddenly, and Wilson's glance fell on a small mirror that he was sure hadn't been there before.

'I've been through the post, Sir,' Wilson began, then looked up slightly. 'Did you mislay your glasses?'

'No, no, just resting my eyes,' Mainwaring replied, rather hastily retrieving his glasses from a pocket and jamming them back on.

Wilson raised his eyebrows but continued. 'Yes, this letter is rather important. It's about some training on the application of interest to War Bonds to be held for the junior staff in Hastings in a couple of weeks' time.'

'Oh, I see.' Mainwaring took the letter. 'Two days?' A slight furrow of annoyance briefly crossed his brow.

'Don't they realise this is asking me to give up one of my platoon? What if Hitler invades when Pike's away in Hastings?'

'Well, I suppose compound interest on War Bonds won't really matter then,' Wilson offered languidly. He expected a retort, but to his surprise, Mainwaring's frown disappeared. He even laughed.

'No, I suppose not! Still…' He tapped the letter on his desk thoughtfully. Fewer platoon members around just now, particularly one with no sense of discretion, might not be a bad thing.

'He does need to learn. And the Bank is providing accommodation…not far from the seafront…call him in, Wilson, I think this would be a good opportunity for him.'

'Yes Sir,' Wilson replied, still rather bemused at Mainwaring's change of heart and reluctantly contemplating a future in which he had to convince Mavis that her son would survive a night in Hastings on his own.

After his customer had left, Wilson called Pike in to the office.

'Yes, Mr Mainwaring?' he asked, rather bright eyed as he had been ever since that shop girl had been mentioned. Last week, such an attitude would have irritated Mainwaring beyond belief, but to his surprise, he found himself understanding it. He only hoped he didn't look like a lovestruck teenager himself, as he was neither of those things. He'd met a charming lady, that was all. He was also trying to ignore the slight burn to his eyebrow.

'Pike, I'd like to send you to Hastings on the fourteenth…'

'What, to the branch? Has someone been called up?'

'No, no, nothing like that. Head Office would like to train junior staff in the correct application of compound interest on War Bonds….'

That sounded exceptionally dull, and especially now, when Pike had a girlfriend that might go out with him instead, and he could only nod as Mainwaring continued.

'It's over two days, and while I don't generally approve of Head Office's attitude in such matters, I think it's best that you go. Very important to your future career, you know.'

'Yes Sir,' Pike replied, rather less enthusiastically. Two days in another dreary office with someone going on about interest rates…but, if it really was good for his career, that would help, if he ever did get engaged again…maybe he wouldn't keep on at Mum to say he couldn't go.

'You're staying here,' Mainwaring passed a brochure enclosed in the letter. 'At the Belle Vue Guesthouse.'

Pike glanced at it, knowing what such a place was likely to be. It was doubtful that Head Office was wasting any money on accommodation. It was probably like the guesthouses here, run by a middle-aged lady who clearly hated everyone that stayed there and threw you out by nine in the morning with orders not to be back until five. He couldn't remember it, but his first home in Walmington had been a seaside guesthouse, when they'd arrived from Weston Super Mare.

Some days later, Walker found himself at the Jolly Rodger Ice Cream Parlour with Pike on duty that evening. He was pleased that the lad seemed to have found a nice girl (and not one that he knew rather well himself), but it was getting a bit wearing when at least every second sentence he came out with these days began with 'My girlfriend' or 'My Ivy'. Fortunately, it was just past midnight now, and they were both starting to quieten, staring out at the dark waves gently breaking against the shore.

'Did I say I'm going to Hastings, Joe?' Pike asked then, breaking the silence.

'What, no?' Grateful for the change in conversation, Walker turned to him.

'Yeah, it's only a bank training course though. Didn't really want to go, but Mr Mainwaring said I had to. He told Mum I had to, when she rang up about it the other day,' he added, remembering his mother's adamant resistance to the idea. She could just about cope with him being away with the rest of the platoon, or out on duty all night, but going away on his own, she was not happy with.

Walker smiled, imagining Mrs Pike's complaints. 'Just for the day, is it?'

'No, I'm staying over there. That's why she didn't want me to go. I'll be at this guesthouse, called the Belle Vue?'

'In Hastings?' Walker suddenly sounded more interested. 'I know that place.'