Shyly, Jeanette handed over the crumpled brown paper bag, inside which were six eggs, five white and one brown. Private Arthur Pink mumbled his thanks, shuffling his feet, barely able to look the girl in the face. He was pleased with the gift; fresh eggs were unheard of so close to the front line and he was sure the rest of his platoon would be delighted; they might stop ribbing him if he brought such a welcome gift.
‘Aye, thanks again,’ he muttered and began to shuffle away from her, desperately confused and embarrassed.
Jeanette was the daughter of the owner of the local estimanet, the bar and café frequented by all the troops in reserve, at rest from the front line. She was the object of admiration of all the soldiers, could have her pick of any of them, so quite why she had been so t
