We stood, holding hands, silent, until Jemima took a deep breath.

“Well, now we have that settled, I could do with a drink!” she grinned, her eyes sparkling in the half light. The Sun had dropped behind the houses and the light coming through the window above the front door was gradually darkening.

“Oh! I'm sorry, I don't drink and there is none in the house. My father, he...”

She laughed loudly and maybe more than the statement warranted but the tension was broken now.

“Silly! I meant tea or coffee!” she giggled.

“Oh...” I blushed with embarrassment, then gasped, putting my hand to my mouth. “OH! I just thought! I have been away so long there will be no milk or even any fresh food!”

“Hmm, yes, good point,” she frowned and pursed her lips as she pondered a solution. “Ah! Right! Got it!”

“You have?" I raised both my eyebrows, waiting for her to explain what it was she had.

“Yes, I have. Now then, no argument, we are going out for dinner!”

“Oh, but...”

Before I could utter another word I found her lips planted firmly against mine, preventing any further protest and the words, along with my resolve, melted away.

“Right then, show me where I can stay and then get changed. As beautiful as you are in that uniform, it is not really the thing to wear to dinner.”

I looked up the stairs to the landing at the top. I had only two bedrooms, my own and my mothers and no-one had been in hers since the day she was killed.

“You can have my bed,” I ventured, “I will sleep in my mum's bed.”

For a moment her face became serious.

“When we were in hospital, you told me about your family,” she said. “If it is too difficult I don't mind sleeping on the floor... just for tonight of course!” she finished with a grin but leaving me in no doubt that she didn't really want to.

“No,” I said. “No, you are right. This is a new life. Tonight, I will sleep in my mum's bed and tomorrow? Well, tomorrow is another day.”

“That's the spirit,” she replied cheerfully, “Now, come on, lets get you ready for dinner!”

I put on a happy smile for her but inside, my heart was still heavy. The house was preying on my mind and I hoped I would be able to sleep tonight.

Jemima followed me up the stairs and I took her straight to my room. I felt nervous of her seeing it. I knew she was used to expensive things and my humble room must have seemed like a slum to her.

It was a nice room, not too small with a big window, overlooking the now rather overgrown garden, in one wall and facing it, on the opposite side, was my bed, just as I had left it a lifetime ago. It was a very comfortable, single bed with an iron frame and dark wood head and foot boards. It was neatly made up, just as I had left it, with a crisp white sheet, folded neatly at the corners along with a dark woolen blanket and topped with a thin Eiderdown.

Beside the bed I had a small table upon which stood an electric alarm clock with lamp attached, made from Bakelite resembling green onyx and a small framed picture of my mum and alongside the door my large, dark brown wardrobe stood against the wall. Under the window but to one side, so the mirror did not block the light, was my dressing table. The same plain, dark brown timber as my other furniture, made up of three drawers either side of a space where my stool was neatly placed and a tall mirror standing on top of it at the rear. I had a silver plate hair brush and hand mirror arranged neatly on a white cotton doily on one side of the mirror and a small, pretty porcelain dish on a matching doily which contained what little jewelery I possessed.

I had always liked this room, it was my room, my own space, where I felt safe but now, as I looked around, it seemed different. Drab and dark, like the rest of this empty house. A haven from a perceived danger that no longer existed.

I turned to Jemima.

“I'm sorry,” I told her apologetically. “It is not much, not what you are used to...” I had seen her looking as though appraising its sparsity.

“You really don't know me at all do you,” a statement rather than a question.

“I am rich. I have more money than you can imagine but it means nothing.” I opened my mouth to protest but she continued. “When we crashed, all the money in the world could not have saved me but you did! You may not be wealthy in money or possessions but you have something that I had misplaced long ago. You are rich in compassion, you care and after all you have been through you still care about what I think! I live in a big house in Maida Vale. My bed is huge and hand made. I have a dressing room for my clothes but would that make you any happier? No, I can assure you it would not, Karen. You have a nice, comfortable home here and it is me who should be envious of you, not vice versa.”

I stared at her in silence and felt a little as though she were chastising me but I knew she wasn't, I could see in her face that she meant every word.

I took her hand and pulled her to me. Now it was my turn and I pressed my lips against hers and kissed her like I had never kissed anyone before!At that moment I knew what love really meant.

She put her arms around me and responded in similar fashion, our tongues exploring each others mouths.

Eventually we parted, gasping for breath.

“I missed you so much, Karen,” she gasped, “I knew, from the moment you touched me when I was caught up in the restroom that you were different. That first contact was like a slap. I didn't understand it then but I do now.”

“I felt it too,” I breathed, “I didn't understand it either but now it all makes sense. These feelings are nothing I have ever experienced and, Lord knows, I have been searching long and hard!”

We gazed silently at one another for a time, no further words needed, until:

“Do you mind if we don't go out? I am not really up to it yet.”

She smiled, never breaking eye contact as she replied.

“No, Karen, I don't mind at all but what shall we eat? We cannot survive on love alone.”

“Well, there is a fish shop just around the corner. You did say that wealth was not important...”

“Hmm, well, I have never tried fish and chips but I saw it a couple of days ago when I went to the 'Marquis' and I have to admit, the aroma was, erm, interesting.”

“Good,” I exclaimed, “And what's more, I am paying!”

“Oh my gosh!” Jemima feigned shock, “I would never have believed it possible before...”

“What?” I asked, startled and not a little concerned.

“I do believe I am falling genuinely in love with you!”

I hugged her tightly. I could not respond with the reply she wanted to hear but, deep inside, I felt that maybe, just maybe, she could be right.

“I will just change these clothes before I go something a little more comfortable and I don't want to get my uniform greasy.”

Jemima didn't speak as I went to my wardrobe and took out a knee length cotton skirt and laid it on the bed and a pair of wedged sandals from the bottom.

“They should do for now,” I said, partly to myself as I untied the scarf from my neck and placed it neatly in one of the drawers of my dressing table.

I removed the pins from my hat and placed it carefully on the shelf at the top of the wardrobe and then took out the long pin which held my bun in place and allowed my hair to fall down across my shoulders, shaking my head as I did so.

I heard a sharp gasp of breath from behind me and I turned round to face Jemima, wondering what was wrong.

“Jemima?” I queried.

“It's nothing,” she replied, “It's just that...” The words trailed away.

“What?” I persisted.

“Oh, nothing really,” she insisted with a mysterious smile.

I raised an eyebrow and turned back towards the wardrobe and reached behind me to undo the button of my skirt and lower the zip. Once released I slipped the skirt carefully down and, without letting it fall, stepped out of it and folded it neatly in half to lay it on the stool whilst I selected a hanger with spring-grips to keep it from crumpling.

After connecting the clips to the waistband, I hung it in the wardrobe whilst I removed my matching scarlet jacket and hung that over the same hanger as the skirt.

Closing the wardrobe door I turned around to pick up my skirt from the bed but I noticed that Jemima was staring straight at me but with a far away look in her eyes as though her mind was no longer in the same place.

“Are you all right?” I asked her, a little concerned that she seemed to breathing a little heavier and she seemed to snap back as the words left my mouth.

“Oh, oh yes, sorry, I was... was... yes, sorry” she repeated.

I frowned again. She seemed to be struggling for words, not like her at all.

I picked up the flared, floral cotton skirt from the bed and stepped into it, tucking in my blouse and fastening it at the side, giving a final adjustment before pulling out the stool and sitting down to slip off my shoes and replace them with the pastel pink sandals.

I checked my appearance in the mirror and was satisfied that I was ready to be seen in public.

I spun round quickly to face Jemima, my skirt flying out as I did so.

“Right then, come on!” I grabbed her hand and dragged her quickly from the room and down the stairs.

“You can prepare the table and make coffee whilst I am gone,” I stated as she trotted down the stairs behind me.

In the kitchen I showed where everything was.

“There is some powdered milk in the cupboard if you want it but I don't like it. I just keep it for emergencies.”

Jemima watched my every move like a Hawk watching its prey as I wittered on, a thin smile on her lips.

“It is nice to see you happy,” she said when I stopped long enough for her to get a word in.

“Hmm, yes. It is down to you, of course,” I replied.

“Me, how?” she asked.

“Because you are the first friend I have allowed through my front door, the only person I have trusted enough and wanted, to let stay overnight. The only person I believe will still be here when I awake.”

I didn't add, 'you will be, won't you?' because my heart told me she would and I didn't doubt it.

With a spring in my step, I left he house and almost skipped to the fish shop.

There was a short queue when I arrived there a few moments later and I waited patiently until those before me had been served.

“Fish and ships twice please,” I asked the young woman behind the counter.

“Two fish, Albie,” she called across to the middle aged man behind the fryer.

“Two minutes,” he called back without looking up.

“Two minutes,” the woman repeated to me.

“Yes, thank you,” I replied with a strong hint of sarcasm. Had she not had such a miserable air about her I may have been inclined to be a little more pleasant.

The man behind the fryer suddenly looked up.

“Miss Farmer! Bless my soul! I saw yer in the paper. Didn't know yer was 'ome.”

“Just,” I answered him. “Nothing in the house so I thought my colleague and I would have have dinner courtesy of your fine establishment.”

“Well, then, dinner's on me tonight,” he said with a broad grin.

The young woman frowned as though she couldn't believe what she had just heard.

“Oh, no, Albie, there is no need...” I began but he raised his hand to stop my protest.

“You deserve it, Miss,” he continued, “After what you did, it is a small gesture.” he turned to his assistant.

“Miss Farmer, 'ere, is the Air 'ostess what saved all those lives in that plane crash in France back in June.”

“Cor Blimey, I though you looked familiar. Your picture was in all the papers!”

I was blushing furiously now. I hated all this attention. I preferred to be virtually unnoticed except when I was at work.

“It must 'ave bin awful!” the young woman went on.

“All right now, Evie. I am sure Miss Farmer doesn't want to keep being reminded.” The man behind the fryer prevented any further comment. “Fish is ready, yer can start shovelin' chips now.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, Miss,” the young lady apologised as 'shoveled' a large quantity of chips into the paper she was holding and sprinkled them liberally with salt and vinegar.

I smiled inwardly wondering how many times she had covered my face with oily fried potatoes.

“No need to apologise, Evie,” I reassured her, “But Albie is right, I don't really like to talk about it.”

At that moment I had a thought.

“Albie, erm, you couldn't spare a cup of milk could you. I would normally ask but there is nowhere open now.”

“Yes, of course, Miss Farmer. 'ang on a sec.” he replied and disappeared through a door behind him, returning moments later with a tea cup full of white liquid.

“There yer go, Miss. Don't worry about the cup, just pop it in next time yer passin'.”

“Ahh, thank you, Albie and you too Evie,” I smiled sweetly at the girl behind the counter who blushed and shifted her feet.

“You're welcome, Miss,” she replied awkwardly which made me wonder if that was possibly the first time she had ever been thanked for anything in her life.

I hurried back to the house, being careful not to spill a drop of the milk, the newspaper wrapped food tucked carefully under my arm.

In the kitchen, Jemima had been busy lying out the table for the two of use, cutlery set neatly on either side of the table. From somewhere she had found a candle, just a plain white one, and pressed it into and old, white china holder which looked a little like a saucer with a handle attached. She had also found a small, thin glass vase and placed in it some daisies from the overgrown garden.

I stood in the doorway and felt a lump rise in my throat. No-one had ever done such a thing for me before.

I looked at her and her eyes twinkled in the flickering candle light. I realised she had closed the wooden shutters as the light outside had not yet faded to darkness.

“Jemima...” I began but that was all I could think of to say. I was totally overwhelmed.

“Shhh...“ she said, “Don't spoil the moment and don't let the food get cold either.” She winked then.

She had warmed the plates in the oven whilst she had been busy and I placed the milk in the fridge and opened the newspapers to reveal the fish and chips then placed a fillet on each of the two plates, sharing the chips equally between them.

“I must say, they smell better than they look,” she said, leaning over the food and sniffing deeply.

“Well, let's find out then, shall we?” I replied, screwing up the papers into a ball and dropping them into the waste bin.

We ate in silence for a while and I watched Jemima as she sampled this basic fare.

“You know, this isn't at all bad but it is rather oily,” she said, hand in front of mouth. I didn't answer her but just smiled. I felt as though I was on a date for the first time, like a teenager and I felt so happy.

“Aren't you hungry?” she asked, seeing that I was just picking at mine.

I shook my head a slightly, slowly. I had lost my appetite somehow. Just watching her eat seemed to satisfy my own hunger.

“Are you all right, Karen?” she asked, her fork stopping in mid air, a chip still attached to it, then sank slowly back to the plate as she awaited my response.

“Oh yes, I am fine, in fact, I am more than fine, Jemima, I am so happy that my hunger seems to have vanished.”

She returned her fork to the plate and reached across, placing her hand upon mine.

“I am happy too, Sweetheart,” she paused, “But come on, don't let it get cold!”

I chuckled quietly and returned to my meal. She was wonderful.

From then on, we chatted as we ate, learning little things about each other and very quickly I began to realise that, although we were from very different backgrounds, we had so much in common. I had an abusive father, she an abusive husband. She had tried to compete with the men around her in much the same way as I had tried to attract those around me and while I had tried to win love by giving myself to easily, she had tried to find validation by emulating and flirting coarsely and shamelessly but the one thing that resulted for both of us was that we were both very unhappy. Something that neither of us had realised until that fateful day when our lives had literally collided.

The hours passed unnoticed and it was only when the candle on the table suddenly flickered and died, plunging us into almost total darkness, that we realised how late it had got.

“I think it is time for bed, Karen,” Jemima stated the obvious, laughing, as I fumbled my way to the light switch by the door.

“I will just wash these plates and then we can go up,” I said as I took the plates to the sink and ran some hot water from the water heater above it.

“Leave them,” she said, “I will do them in the morning whilst you are at work.”

“That is very kind but I would rather do them now. They are very greasy and I don't like leaving the kitchen untidy. They will only take a minute.”

“All right,” she chuckled, picking up the neatly folded tea towel from the rail in front of the sink, “Then I will dry.”

Minutes later, after I had wiped around the sink and ensured that everything was clean and tidy, we climbed the stairs together.

All the fears I had felt about her upbringing and how she would judge me and my home were gone. Money was no longer an issue and even if she did have any thoughts about it, she kept them to herself and made me feel equal and at ease.

At the top of the stairs I bid her make herself at home whilst I went to get some clean sheets from the cupboard.

“Karen, there is no need to change your sheets for me,” she began.

“Oh, no,” I protested, “I don't expect you to sleep in unwashed bedding. It won't take a minute to change.”

She looked nervously at me.

“I know this may sound a little odd but I would like to sleep in your sheets. If you don't mind, of course. I want to feel close to you.” She paused before adding, “Is that strange?”

I smiled.

“No, Jemima, not strange at all. In fact...” I took her hand and gazed directly into her beautiful deep brown eyes, “It makes me very happy indeed that you want me so much.” and I pulled her gently to me and kissed her tenderly.

To be continued...