'How right you are, Mike.'

'You're looking good.'

'That's a pleasing white lie. I'm forty-eight this year and I don't like it, though I'm learning to live with it. In London, in this war, that's much easier to do, since there's nothing like the constant threat of death to make you appreciate life, regardless of age and a spinster's traumas.'

'I can't imagine you suffering such traumas.'

She grinned and shrugged. 'Well, not really. Reporting this war keeps me busy, as well as giving me the chance to meet a lot of people. As for men, since I'm always interviewing those fighting the war, I know more men than I can count, and in that sense have a pretty good time. Still, I needed to write to you, Mike. I only met you twice, but I really missed you and that's something I can't ignore. I hope you missed me a little bit.'

'Yes, Gladys, I did. And that took me by surprise. I didn't know how much I'd miss you until you left and then I couldn't believe it. I mean, after only two meetings...' He shrugged. 'It seemed stupid.'

'Romantic?'

Bradley blushed again. 'Yeah, I guess it was, in a way. And I really loved getting your letters, and that seemed odd as well.'

'Love at first sight, Mike.'

'I can't believe in that, Gladys. Some people, they just meet and hit it off and I guess we were two of them. It's a rare kind of friendship.'

'Can men and women be friends that way?'

'Yes,' Mike said doubtfully, 'I think so.'

'Nothing s.e.xual? Not even a little bit?'

'You're teasing me, Gladys.'

She chuckled at that, finished her drink, ordered two more. 'Anyway,' she said, 'I'm sorry about your wife. That must have been hard on you.'

'It was. I even stopped reading your letters for a while. They just made me feel guilty.'

'I teased you a lot in those letters.'

'That's right, Gladys, you did.'

'And you never knew when I was joking or not?'

'No.'

She chuckled again, this time in a throaty, sensual manner. 'I'm a regular b.i.t.c.h that way.'

'I used to get disturbed.'

'And now?'

'We're here as two old friends.'

'Anything you say, pal.'

Yet her broad grin got to him, drawing him into her warmth, and he knew that he was lying and was not just her friend: that he had been attracted to her from the start and felt that way right now. It was ridiculous (they were too old for such nonsense) but there it was, plain as day. There was something lasting between him and Gladys Kinder, and he couldn't deny it.

He felt that he'd known her forever.

'So what are you actually in London for?' she asked him as they sipped at their fresh drinks.

He glanced around the crowded pub, saw sweaty faces through clouds of smoke, the uniforms of many different nationalities; heard a piano pounding in the far corner, voices singing a bawdy song.

'Are you asking as a friend or as a journalist?'

'Take your pick,' she replied.

Bradley grinned at that. 'It's too noisy to talk in here,' he said. 'Can we go for a walk?'

'Sure, Mike. Let's go.'