Excerpt
It was one of those small English pubs which the bombs hadn't found yet. Danny tried to guess how old it was. Two, three hundred years. It had been restored but the renovators had kept to the original design. A solid oak bar, oak panelled walls and leaded glass windows. The building had been furnished to give the appearance of an eighteenth-century building with twentieth-century comfort.
They were lucky to find a table tucked away in a corner, slap up next to one crowded with Royal Navy men and women.
Reaching it first, Laurie said, his voice loud because of the noise, "You get the drinks, Bruce. I'll keep this seat for you."
"Thanks, fellow," Bruce said good-naturedly. "But remember, it's your turn next."
Danny squeezed past a young woman in a Wren officer's uniform to get to his seat. "Sorry," he said, knocking her shoulder as he eased past her. "Oops." He sat on a rickety wooden chair which threatened to collapse under him.
"Are you all right," the Wren asked, smiling widely.
Danny moved carefully. "I think it's safe though I wouldn't guarantee it if a sixteen stone fellow sat on it."
The Wren looked amused. "Just as well you're thin." The light shone on her fair hair and long dark lashes enhanced her green eyes.
Danny had heard of the English peaches and cream complexion. If anyone had one, this girl did. Her red lips parted in a smile but instead of looking away, she continued to gaze at him. Self-conscious by her unembarrassed scrutiny, he smiled.