She was presently arranging some green leaves and berries in a jam jar on the window sill. ‘Only in the canteen,’ said Margot, who was sitting on the bed, her head covered in metal curlers. ‘Rules are rules.’ The three of them were sharing a fruit cake that Lizzie had brought back from Bristol. Margot said something about it reminding her of boarding school. ‘You two are breaking rules too. You’re both sitting on your beds,’ Bessie retorted. Lizzie was rubbing her aching feet. ‘Sometimes it’s necessary. My God, I thought we’d left all this marching up and down behind.’ That morning had consisted of square bashing, square bashing and yet more square bashing. The mess was being decorated with paper chains and, as if by magic, a Christmas tree had appeared. It was rumoured that it might have walked in from the forest down the road, but it was also accepted that just one wouldn’t be missed. ‘I don’t think I’ll be coming to this dance tomorrow,’ said Lizzie. ‘I bet you I’ll draw duty and won’t be able to go.
