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"Jolly good thing, too. Give the Germans a taste of their own medicine."
"You may say that, but there's a lot of muttering among the pilots."
"Really--why?"
"Because all this stuff about military targets is absolute rubbish. There's no point in bombing German factories, because they just rebuild them. So we're targeting large areas of dense working-class housing. They can't replace the workers so fast."
Lowther looked shocked. "That would mean it's our policy to kill civilians."
"Exactly."
"But the government assures us--"
"The government lies," Boy said. "And the bomber crews know it. Many of them don't give a damn, of course, but some feel bad. They believe that if we're doing the right thing, then we should say so, and if we're doing the wrong thing we should stop."
Lowther looked uneasy. "I'm not sure we should be talking like this here."
"You're probably right," Boy said.
The second round of cocktails came. Lowther turned to Daisy. "And what about the little woman?" he said. "You must have some war work. The devil finds mischief for idle hands, according to the proverb."
Daisy replied in a neutral matter-of-fact tone. "Now that the Blitz is over, they don't need women ambulance drivers, so I'm working with the American Red Cross. We have an office in Pall Mall. We do what we can to help American servicemen over here."
"Men lonely for a bit of feminine company, eh?"
"Mostly they're just homesick. They like to hear an American accent."
Lowthie leered. "I expect you're very good at consoling them."
"I do what I can."
"I bet you do."
Boy said: "Look here, Lowthie, are you a bit drunk? Because this sort of talk is awfully bad form, you know."
Lowther's expression turned spiteful. "Oh, come on, Boy, don't tell me you don't know. What are you, blind?"
Daisy said: "Take me home, please, Boy."
He ignored her and spoke to Lowther. "What the devil do you mean?"
"Ask her about Lloyd Williams."
Boy said: "Who the hell is Lloyd Williams?"
Daisy said: "I'm going home alone, if you won't take me."
"Do you know a Lloyd Williams, Daisy?"
He's your brother, Daisy thought, and she felt a powerful impulse to reveal the secret, and knock him sideways, but she resisted the temptation. "You know him," she said. "He was up at Cambridge with you. He took us to a music hall in the East End, years ago."
"Oh!" said Boy, remembering. Then, puzzled, he said to Lowther: "Him?" It was difficult for Boy to see someone such as Lloyd as a rival. With growing incredulity he added: "A man who can't even afford his own dress clothes?"
Lowther said: "Three years ago he was on my intelligence course down at Ty Gwyn while Daisy was living there. You were risking your life in a Hawker Hurricane over France at the time, I seem to remember. She was dallying with that Welsh weasel--in your family's house!"
Boy was getting red in the face. "If you're making this up, Lowthie, by God I'll thrash you."
"Ask your wife!" said Lowther with a confident grin.
