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with shallow steps up to the narrow porch, and on the evenings that women were invited it was sometimes strung with dim bulbs. Hal thought the bulbs rather pathetic looking, and that they highlighted the general shabbiness, but women always said, ‘How lovely,’ so he supposed he was wrong. There was a big garden at the back of the mess which you could get straight out to from the bar.
    Clara was trying not to get mud on her evening shoes and didn’t notice the bulbs. She had hated leaving the twins with the Greek girl on their first night. On the drive over Hal had felt foolish pointing out donkeys and goats and the oranges on the trees, trying to cheer her up.

    The mess bar was low-ceilinged and modern, filled with soldiers and their wives, and the floor was carpeted like a golf club.
    ‘Colonel and Mrs Burroughs,’ said Hal.
    ‘How do you do.’
    ‘Mark Innes.’
    ‘How do you do.’
    Mark Innes, an even-featured, open-faced man of about Hal’s age, smiled and shook her hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ he said.
    ‘Another of mine, Tony Grieves. Grieves, my wife, Clara.’
    Grieves – a crumpled-looking man of twenty-three, quite drunk – made a sort of lurching bow. ‘Mrs Treherne, how do you do.’
    ‘How do you do.’
    A Turkish Cypriot waiter in a white jacket brought over a tray of cocktails.
    ‘White Ladies,’ said Mrs Burroughs. ‘Would you care for one? We’ve all sorts of other things if you’d rather not. But White Ladies are it at the moment.’
    ‘That’s lovely. Thank you.’
    The waiter held the tray in both hands, Clara noticed, as she took the drink.
    There was a bar, hard sofas and armchairs, and a fire at one end of the room. A glass case held silver cups, and yet the whole place had a hasty, brand-new feeling, like a stage set, she thought. She sipped the cocktail, and the sharp lemon juice stung her lips.
    ‘Have they managed to sort out a house for you yet, Hal?’ said Colonel Burroughs, and put a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from Clara as Mrs Burroughs closed in.
    ‘Don’t be overwhelmed,’ she said. She was long-faced and kind, speaking quickly in a powerful voice. ‘You’ll get used to us all. There’s always a crowd at the end of the week, but you won’t find wives here all that often. There’s more fun to be had in town, at the club. My husband is terribly impressed with yours. He’s young to have been made up to major, isn’t he? His father must be awfully pleased – are Arthur and Jean well?’
    ‘Yes, I –’
    ‘I should think you’ll both find it quite different from Germany. But you didn’t come directly from there, did you?’
    ‘No. I took the girls to my family in Buckinghamshire for a few weeks.’
    ‘Lovely. What price Buckinghamshire now, eh? It is freezing this evening, isn’t it? Very often we have beautiful warm weather in January, but this winter has been very harsh. You’ll find the spring pleasant, I should think, although the summer’s absolutely draining. We have most things here, and once you’re on the base you’ll be more or less comfortable, I’m sure. It is a shame you’re stuck in the town, typical army muddle, but really there’s very little trouble. I don’t know what you’ve heard.’
    ‘Hal says it’s been a bit quieter recently.’
    ‘Well, there was an incident in Limassol last week, but mostly we’re managing to stop these ghastly things before they happen, that’s the plan at any rate, but these Cyps are so damned sneaky and the law of averages says they get away with one or two things, however careful one is.’
    ‘I met a man on the boat who said they make bombs out of car exhausts and food tins.’
    ‘My dear, they’ll make them out of absolutely anything. They have them on timers and tripwires and goodness knows what. They’ve no scruples whatsoever. We’ve had to put poles on the fronts of the vehicles to catch the piano wire they stretch across the road before it can take off our