He'd missed holding Ivy's hand. Looking down at her, Pike felt so pleased and proud to have her smile at him like she did, and just now, her hand was the only source of warmth on the dark winter's evening, except when she brushed against him a little closer. It would be nice to be back at the Pictures with her – before, she'd kept holding his hand, and let him kiss her, wrapping her arms around him as best she could. Pike didn't know if she'd be quite the same just yet, and still didn't know what was happening, but she seemed to like him again, which was the main thing. It came as a surprise, therefore, when Ivy stopped halfway to the bus stop to Eastgate.

'What it is?' Pike asked her. 'It's cold here, let's get on the bus!'

'Can I show you something?' She stood up on her toes and whispered. 'Something else?'

'What?'

'What if we didn't go?' Ivy started to lead him down the street in the opposite direction.

'Why? Don't you want to?' This was potentially serious, and he started to imagine what he could have done wrong.

'Yes, but…come and see something. It's for Christmas,' she replied secretively.

'Oh, presents? I haven't got yours yet though….'

'Not exactly. Come on – you'll see!' Not altogether sure he should be doing this, Pike found himself following Ivy down through the deserted town to a small gate where the pavement turned to sand, and windswept dunes rose on either side.

'What're we doing here, Ivy?' There was curiosity and some trepidation in his voice now. He knew enough about the sand dunes to know that they had a certain reputation at night, even if any details were hard to come by.

'This was where I used to come with my family.' That came as somewhat of a relief and, in an odd sort of way, a slight disappointment. 'We had one of the beach huts down here, well, we still do, just don't use it much.'

'That one?' Pike asked, as they neared a shape in the darkness, picked out by Ivy's cellophane wrapped torch, that she'd kept pointing downwards, as they'd all been told. The wind was rising, sending the waves crashing to the shore.

'Yes, that's it!' she replied excitedly. Taking a deep breath, she continued, 'Come in.'

'Umm…' Pike looked around uncertainly. What if anyone had seen them? Not that he could remember though, and blacked out nights in winter were very dark indeed.

'Please?' She was close now, and warm. 'It's like meeting Father Christmas in there, you know? Like when we were kids?' Her fingers entwined his, and she tilted her face up to his.

'Well…yeah…' he agreed, and stepped through into the small, wooden hut.

'I know it's dark, but I've got candles,' Ivy began, relighting them. Soon there was a soft glow of light, and the tinsel began to shimmer and sparkle in the darkness. One candle was placed under a large flowerpot on a flat stone in a corner of the hut.

'That was recommended for houses that have been bombed out,' Ivy explained. 'It keeps small spaces warm.'

'Oh yeah!' Pike moved his hand over to where the slightly glowing flowerpot was. 'Like a stove?'

'Yes – we've got one of those too – no paraffin though.' Ivy shifted over slightly and perched delicately on one of the beds.

'Come on,' she said, patting the blanket next to her. 'Doesn't it look Christmassy?'

'Yeah!' He smiled – a lovely smile, that Ivy could still see in the dim light. 'And you've got a tree! Is it a real one?'

Ivy laughed. Hardly anyone was allowed to hear her laugh. 'No, it's not! It's nice though.' She was quiet for a moment, and then shone her torch on to the opposite bed.

'Look.' She indicated various bars of confectionary that she must have saved up for a few weeks, and in the absence of cider, a couple of bottles of raspberryade. It would probably go better with chocolate, anyway.

'Where did you get all that?' Pike's eyes were wide, staring at the couple of weeks' worth of sweet rations spread out on the bedspread.

Ivy giggled. 'I saved it! Happy Christmas, Frank,' she added, and pulled him close for a kiss.

Kissing her here, like this, was a completely different experience. They were truly on their own now, and no-one was going to walk around the corner, or otherwise catch them, and he'd missed her.

It was a quite a clumsy, messy kiss, suddenly broken by a rather bright-eyed Ivy, her breath unusually quick and shallow, unbuttoning her heavy coat to half sit, half lie on the bed beside him, wearing a tight-fitting pullover Pike actually recognised from one of his mother's magazines. It was also one of the magazines that had somehow gone missing. The ones with particularly pretty girls modelling the knitting patterns sometimes did. She looked lovely in it.

'Come on!' Ivy still sounded breathless, her voice a rather urgent whisper, and she wriggled on to his lap, unexpectedly bringing all of her far closer than ever before. It was all she could do not to push him back now, and the kisses got harder, and she pushed up closer, until to her surprise, she fell back slightly as Pike suddenly stood up.

'Do you want some chocolate?' he asked abruptly. 'I really like this chocolate – haven't seen it for ages!' He hurriedly offered it to Ivy and sat down heavily on the opposite bed.

'Umm, yes, thank you…' Ivy took it, not wanting to be right about what could be wrong. She hadn't, for all her daydreams, had much experience with real boys herself, but she did know what she'd felt when they'd first gone out together, and was uncomfortably aware that she hadn't just now. Maybe she'd just been in the wrong place…but being on a boy's lap was the right place, wasn't it? For that sort of thing to happen?

Across from her, glad of the dim light, Pike bit at the chocolate as if he needed it. He probably did. She hadn't noticed, he told himself. Did girls even know? Maybe she didn't. He couldn't quite look her in the eye just yet – there was confusion, embarrassment and guilt to deal with. Kissing Ivy and thinking about kissing her had an effect – it still did, and it even had when they weren't speaking, which was strange in itself.

But if it didn't, when she was right here, and they were on their own, what did that mean? Pike didn't want to think too much about it, and certainly wasn't going to admit what happened. He looked up then, at the festively decorated hut, and felt more guilty still. She'd wanted it to be special, and it was his fault it wouldn't be.

'What's wrong?' She sounded nervous.

'Nothing – d'you want some raspberryade?' He pushed a bottle towards her. Somewhat embarrassed and uncomfortable herself, Ivy took it, and for a while, they sat in silence, drinking their drinks, as the baubles swung gently in the breeze through the cracks in the panelling and the candles flickered on the tinsel.

'We could get the second showing?' Ivy suggested then. She sounded rather sad but didn't want him to feel any worse.

'Yeah.' That was bringing him back to what he knew. Something safe, predictable.

Ivy blew out the candles, and they stepped back out into the cold night. It felt colder still after the relative warmth from the flowerpot stove and blankets in the hut. Hopefully, Ivy took Pike's hand again, and he took it, rather grateful for what felt like forgiveness. He hoped he wouldn't have to actually ask her not to tell anyone about what happened.

It was much warmer in the cinema, of course, and they made the second showing. Cigarette smoke curled lazily up in front of the screen but did nothing to diminish the beauty of Lana Turner.

Paradoxically, now Ivy seemed somewhat afraid to do anything more than hold his hand, Pike couldn't help but notice that now, everything was working just as it should, watching Lana glide past.