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and my friends?’

      ‘All right,’ I said shyly.

      We got chatting and I decided I liked him when he was sober. He was playful and engaging and there was definitely chemistry between us. I was very pleased when he asked if I’d accompany him to a cheese-and-wine evening at the naval base the following weekend.

      As the week went by, however, I got a bit nervous. What should I wear? How formal was it? Allen had said he would book a bed and breakfast for me near the base in Fareham, but would he expect to stay over with me? I wasn’t sure yet how I felt about that. I knew I liked him but I didn’t want to rush things.

      As it turned out, the evening was fantastic. Allen had booked a taxi to pick me up from my B & B. He met me at the gate, took my arm as we walked in and behaved like a perfect gentleman all night. It was the first time I’d seen him in uniform and he looked very attractive, not to mention sexy. I liked the fact that he held doors open for me and took my coat and went to the bar to get me a drink, and that he introduced me to all his friends. Everything went smoothly and being with him felt very natural.

      Afterwards he came back with me to the B & B, and even though I hadn’t known him for long I asked him in to stay the night. It just felt right. The surgeon’s wife had given me half a bottle of champagne and we shared it over whispered conversation before we went to bed. Next morning, he had to sneak out early before the landlady saw him because he wasn’t registered as a guest. The sight of him tiptoeing down the stairs in his socks, shoes held aloft, trying not to make a noise, was hilarious.

      We started seeing as much of each other as we could: we went to the pictures, had dinner together, walked in the countryside, and talked the whole time. I couldn’t stop thinking about him between dates and used to get a churning in my stomach when he called, or when I was on my way out to meet him. He was the most interesting, lively man I’d ever met, and I could tell he was a nice guy underneath the extrovert exterior. He definitely had a caring side.

      Allen explained that he could get a posting at any time that would mean he’d have to go overseas, and I told him plainly that I wasn’t going to wait around being ‘the girl he saw when his ship happened to be in Fareham’. I was at a stage in my life when I knew I wanted a husband and a home of my own and I didn’t want to waste time on a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere. I also knew I was falling in love with Allen and I wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to get my heart broken.

      Fortunately he seemed to feel the same way because it wasn’t long before we started talking about marriage. Allen wanted to do it all properly though. At Easter 1983, just four months after we met, he was booked to go skiing in Switzerland with five of his friends. He’d learned to ski in the Navy and was seemingly very good. He suggested that I came along and shared the chalet with them, then he could propose to me formally out there, against the dramatic backdrop of snow-covered mountains. Before we left, he went to see my dad and asked his permission, which was a typically old-fashioned, gentlemanly touch.

      I’d never skied before but I picked it up quite quickly and really enjoyed myself. Allen was a brilliant skier, whizzing down the slopes like a streak of lightning. It was a shame it wasn’t just the two of us but he had already arranged the holiday with his mates from the Navy and couldn’t cancel.

      We’d talked about it and I knew he was going to propose at some point but he wouldn’t tell me which day he was going to do it. The way it happened was incredibly romantic. We’d just got off the chairlift at the top of the mountain and were carrying our skis to the top of a run, with a stunning view spread out below us, when Allen got down on bended knee in the snow.

      ‘I love you, Sandra, and want to spend the rest of my life with you,’ he said. ‘Please will you do me the honour of agreeing to be my wife?’ He produced a very pretty diamond ring from the pocket of his ski suit.

      I was on the verge of tears. ‘Yes, I will,’ I said straight away. I loved his perfect manners and the way he could always make me feel so special. It couldn’t have been a more beautiful proposal.

      That night, though, we went out to a local restaurant with his friends and they decided to celebrate by getting smashed. As the evening wore on, they grew more and more raucous until the owner of the place finally asked them to leave. Allen’s friends couldn’t understand why I didn’t like heavy drinking, and obviously thought I was a killjoy. They even tried to spike my drink. I was humiliated and angry, and really I thought we should have been having dinner on our own that evening.

      The next morning, I was still tetchy with Allen and, sensing it, he became tetchy back. It all blew up when I asked him to brush the snow off my ski boots and he refused, snapping, ‘Do it yourself.’

      That was it. My temper finally erupted. I pulled the engagement ring off my finger and hurled it into the snow.

      ‘In that case, you can forget all about getting married,’ I snarled.

      We had a furious stand-up argument, in which I yelled at him that he had ruined our engagement by getting drunk. ‘I grew up with a father who always smelled of booze. He was scary and unpredictable when he was drunk and there’s no way I’m going to marry a man who drinks too much.’

      ‘I don’t drink too much. I just know how to let my hair down and you don’t.’

      ‘No, and I don’t want to if it means getting thrown out of a restaurant. I don’t want to live like that.’

      I knew in my heart of hearts that Allen wasn’t an alcoholic. He just liked having fun with his friends. He was gregarious and obviously very popular with the other lads, whereas I was quieter and more reserved, but somehow we complemented each other.

      ‘That wasn’t my fault,’ he said, and blamed one of the other lads. ‘He’s just back from the Falklands where he saw friends of his killed and maimed, and he needs to let off steam.’

      The whole time we were arguing, I kept my eye on the spot where the ring had landed, right in the middle of a snowdrift. I’d wanted to make a point but I didn’t want to lose it.

      ‘Come on,’ he said finally. ‘Can we kiss and make up? I’m sorry we ruined your evening and I promise I’ll make it up to you.’

      I felt safe with him, and life was always fun when he was around, so there was no question that I would forgive him. We both got down on our hands and knees and scrabbled around in the snow until I found the ring, sparkling away in the sunlight. Allen slipped it back on to my finger and we fell into each other’s arms.

      We’d planned to wait a year before getting married, but in August 1983 he was told he was being posted overseas. If we got married first, I could go with him and we’d be allocated married quarters, so that’s what we decided to do. It was only after we were already committed that they told us the posting was going to be Scotland rather than some far-flung sunny place as I’d hoped. Meanwhile, I had just three months to plan and organize a wedding for around a hundred people, so it was all a bit frenzied and chaotic.

      We wanted to get married in a big Italian church in Wilton, the town where I grew up, and the only date it was available when Allen was also free was 5 November. It was a very traditional wedding, with my sisters, nieces and nephews in the bridal party. My sister Jenny made all the bridesmaids’ dresses and it was so cold in the church that she left room for everyone to wear thermal vests underneath. I saw a beautiful picture in a wedding magazine of some swans made out of choux pastry and asked the local bakery to recreate them but on the day they came out looking like Loch Ness monsters rather than swans. Everyone said how appropriate that was since we were going to Scotland.

      The day flashed past for me. We had the reception at the Pembroke Arms hotel opposite the church, and then we dashed off to catch an overnight sleeper up to Scotland just as everyone around the country was enjoying their bonfires and fireworks displays. Allen’s friends entered into the spirit of the night by putting bangers in the exhaust pipe of our car and placing kippers in the car heater, which wafted out intense fishy smells during the journey.

      Our honeymoon consisted of a week together in Scotland in naval quarters,

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