The atmosphere in the fashionable Café de Paris
in Coventry Street was different to his last visit, Sowerbutt thought. Quieter,
more sombre. A lot of the men were in uniform, one with a black patch over an
eye, another with his sleeve neatly pinned across his chest, glinting with
several medals. He spotted several attractive women in smart ATS uniform; women
in the army took some getting used to. The chatter and laughter seemed forced. The bombing in London was non-stop now, night after night after night.
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