A Family Secret

Book 2: Battersea Tavern

by Kitty Neale

Genres: Sagas; Family Life

Synopsis

From the Sunday Times Bestselling author.

In a time of war, what's holding them together could tear them all apart...

London, 1940. Winnie Berry is at the heart of the community in her pub, The Battersea Tavern. Her door is always open to those in need of a cup of tea and sympathy.

Winnie's abusive husband has left and she finds herself foolishly falling in love with black-market trader, Have-it Harry Hampton. But Harry is married and Winnie soon finds herself tied up in his web of secrets.

Meanwhile Winnie's son is back in London - not to visit his own child, but to charm the latest barmaid at the Battersea Tavern, which will lead to devastating consequences for the family.

With bombs dropping all around them, is it too late for Winnie to uncover the secrets of those closest to her in order to protect her true family?

Release date: August 4, 2022

Publisher: Orion

Print pages: 416

Sample

As Harry Hampton walked through his front door, his heart sank when he was greeted by his wife’s sour face and her not-so-dulcet tones.

‘Where the bleedin’ hell have you been?’ Carmen screeched. ‘Your lunch is nearly ruined.’ Her arms were tightly folded across her chest and her lips were set in a grim line.

Harry removed his trilby hat and placed it on top of the newel post. He was about to explain to Carmen, but before he had a chance to respond, she tutted and answered for him.

‘Down the Battersea Tavern again, I suppose. You spend more bloody time in that pub then you do at home. What’s the attraction, eh? I know it can’t be that Winnie Berry, the fat old cow! So what is it, eh, Harry? Got your eye on her barmaid, have you? You pathetic creature. As if a young woman like Rachel would be interested in an old man like you! Or have you been flashing your cash to try and lure her?’

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. For Gawd’s sake, he thought, the woman knew that he’d been out grafting so there was no need for her to get her knickers in a twist. But of course, Carmen had to get in her little jibe about women and money. He wished that she wouldn’t keep mentioning it. And anyway, where he spent his cash was none of her business. But at least his wife didn’t suspect that he had feelings for Winnie Berry. His love for Winnie was a well-guarded secret. ‘Come on, love, give it a rest, will ya,’ he said, feeling exasperated. ‘Of course I ain’t got my eye on any of the women in the pub. I’ve only got eyes for you, my sweetness and light,’ he placated, hoping against all the odds that she would soften to a bit of his charm.

‘Don’t give me that, Harry Hampton! You’ve always had an eye for the ladies, especially the ones who like your money. Well, that Rachel and her bastard baby are welcome to you.’

Harry wished that Carmen wouldn’t talk unkindly about Rachel. But, he supposed, his wife was only repeating what a lot of the neighbours were saying. Having a child without a husband meant that Rachel had been labelled a slut. He thought it was a shame, as she seemed like a nice girl. But it was nothing to do with him and he wouldn’t dare open his mouth to his wife to defend Rachel. Instead, Harry stepped towards Carmen and wrapped his arms around her slim waist. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him suspiciously and she kept her arms folded and her back rigid.

‘Don’t be like that, love. Give your old man a kiss,’ Harry teased. He went to place his lips on hers but Carmen quickly turned her face.

‘Get orf me, you’re drunk. You stink like a brewery and your clothes reek of baccy,’ she moaned, stepping back from his clinch.

‘I ain’t drunk. I’ve had two pints, that’s all.’

‘And the rest.’

‘It’s true, sweetheart, honest. I’m not in the pub having a jolly. I’m working. ’Ere you go.’ Harry pulled a wad of notes from his trousers pocket and shoved them towards Carmen. ‘Not a bad morning’s work an’ all,’ he added proudly.

Carmen didn’t hesitate; she grabbed the cash from him and stuffed the money into the pocket of her apron.

‘See, you ain’t complaining now,’ Harry chirped, then mumbled quickly, ‘for a change.’

‘I heard that! I wouldn’t complain if you didn’t keep giving me reason to.’

Yeah, you would, Harry thought to himself. His wife was a fine-looking woman but she had a tongue on her that could cut through steel like a hot knife through butter.

Harry shrugged, then sauntered past Carmen as he made his way down the narrow passageway through to the kitchen at the back of the terraced house. His stomach grumbled as he pulled out at a seat at the kitchen table. For all his wife’s faults, she always dished up a good meal and Harry was looking forward to his lunch. He was hoping he’d get to eat it in peace but he doubted that would happen as Carmen was clearly in a foul mood.

His wife followed him into the kitchen but he hardly noticed her. He was busy reading the front page of the daily newspaper. It was full of the usual headlines about air battles with the Royal Air Force and the German Luftwaffe and sea clashes.

‘See this, love. The RAF are going all out fighting. There’s a lot of our blokes getting shot out of the sky. Flamin’ Jerries!’ Harry said with a shake of his head but his eyes remained fixed on the newspaper.

‘I’m sick of hearing about it. If I turn on the wireless, all I hear are news bulletins or first-aid advice. So I’ll thank you not to talk about the blasted war over lunch,’ Carmen snapped.

Harry wished that he’d kept his mouth shut now. Whenever he opened it, his wife inevitably jumped down his throat. In a bid to change the subject, he asked, ‘What’s for lunch?’

‘Corned-beef hash.’

‘Again?’ Harry spluttered, instantly regretting his response.

‘Yes, again,’ Carmen answered tartly. ‘I’ve got two dozen tins stashed under the stairs that you’ve not flogged yet. If you can’t sell it, we may as well eat it. And don’t you dare roll your bleedin’ eyes at me.’

‘I’m sure the corned-beef hash will be smashing,’ Harry said, hiding a deep sigh.

Carmen slammed a plate down in front of him and snatched his newspaper away. ‘So, let’s hear it, then. What fairy tale are you going to tell me this time as your sad excuse for being over an hour late for lunch?’

Harry was about to protest about her pulling away his newspaper but then he thought better of it. He eagerly shoved a forkful of the hash into his mouth and began to chew. All the while, Carmen stared at him accusingly.

‘Aren’t you having any lunch, love?’ he asked.

‘I ate an hour ago, at lunchtime,’ she replied sarcastically. ‘Well? I’m still waiting for an answer about your tardiness.’

‘I had to see a man about a dog. I can’t sell me stuff if I ain’t got nothing to sell.’

‘What did you buy?’

‘Sausage skins, two dozen chocolate bars and half a dozen bacon joints. I’ll get you to cut the bacon up for me and I’ll sell it by the slice. It’ll go down a treat in the pub.’

‘So where is it, then?’

‘I’m picking it up tomorrow. And I’ll take some of them tins of corned beef out with me tonight and see if I can’t shift a few.’

‘Yeah, you do that. And while you’re at it, you can send our Cheryl home. I don’t like her hanging about in the Battersea Tavern. It ain’t right for a woman to be in a pub without a man.’

‘Come off it, Carmen. There’s loads of young women in the pubs nowadays. Let’s face it, they’re in the factories doing the jobs of men, so why shouldn’t they let their hair down?’

‘That’s just typical of you to stick up for your little princess. But I’m telling you, mark my words, no good will come of our daughter drinking in a pub. She’ll end up with her reputation in tatters.’

Harry finished his last mouthful of lunch and pushed his plate away. ‘That was bloody handsome, that was. Thanks, sweetheart. I tell you what, why don’t you come for a drink with me tonight? You’ll see for yourself that Cheryl ain’t doing no harm.’

‘I’ll do no such thing!’ Carmen answered haughtily. ‘You won’t get me setting foot in that place, thank you very much! And I suggest you put a stop to our Cheryl going in there before she ends up being talked about by the neighbours.’

Harry rolled his eyes again but thankfully Carmen didn’t see. She’d taken his plate to the sink and was rinsing it under the tap. From behind, with her raven-black hair pinned high on her head, pert backside and trim hips, Carmen didn’t look a day over twenty-five. But time hadn’t been so kind to her face and now her olive skin was etched with wrinkles and bags sagged under her dark eyes. Harry still found his wife, at forty-nine years old, to be an attractive woman and he smiled at the memory of when they’d first met. He’d thought she was such an exotic beauty and had assumed she was Spanish. As it turned out, Euphemia, which was her real name, was the product of a one-night stand between her mother and a gypsy boy. When Euphemia had discovered the truth and found out that she’d been born out of wedlock and had a gypsy father, she’d quickly changed her name to Carmen and the Spanish charade had begun. Woe betide Harry if he ever dared to mention his wife’s origins. It was a closely guarded secret that even their grown children, Errol and Cheryl, knew nothing about. Yet, regardless of her past, she was quick to hypocritically slate Rachel for being an unmarried mother. But that was typical of his wife; she lacked empathy for anyone.

Carmen turned from the butler sink. ‘Are you going to stay for a cuppa?’ she asked as she dried her hands on a tea towel. ‘The kettle is already on to boil.’

Harry glanced at his watch. It was nearly three o’clock. He’d have to hurry if he wanted to catch his mate, Danny, at the Northcote Road market. ‘Sorry, love, I’ve got to dash. Time is money an’ all that.’

He noticed a look of disappointment on Carmen’s face and asked, ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?’ she spat.

‘Excuse me for breathing. I was only asking.’

Carmen’s stiff shoulders slumped and she pulled a chair out from the table. She flopped herself down and hung her head. ‘I’m bored, Harry. You pop in and out but never stay long and don’t get home till late. Cheryl is working long hours at the factory and even today, on a Saturday. And Errol is Lord only knows where. I’m stuck in these four walls day in and day out. I can’t even turn on the wireless anymore unless I want to hear about the damned war.’

Harry stared wide-eyed at his wife, somewhat stunned by her revelation. Carmen had always seemed happy enough with her lot and had even boasted about how nice their house was compared to their neighbours, albeit furnished with his ill-gotten gains. It had never occurred to him that she wanted more in her life. ‘There’s plenty of volunteer things you could get involved with, sweetheart. Old Mrs Hill down the road is collecting woollen jumpers and stuff to make into blankets. Mrs Tinder is organising a gift box scheme for the soldiers overseas and Mrs—’

Carmen interrupted abruptly, ‘Yes, thank you, Harry; that will do.’

Oh, of course it will, Harry thought. After all, Carmen wouldn’t want to work with any of the women on the street. She didn’t get on with most of them but it was her own doing. Over the years, she’d distanced herself from just about all the wives and mothers and those who spoke to her now only did so out of politeness.

Harry scraped his chair back and walked around the table. He placed his arm over his wife’s shoulders and lightly kissed her cheek though he had little sympathy for her predicament. ‘I’ll try and get home a bit earlier tonight and I’ll bring you a couple of bottles of stout, eh? Perhaps we can have a game of cards.’

Now it was Carmen who rolled her eyes, very clearly un­impressed.

‘I’ll see you later, love,’ Harry called as he strolled down the passageway.

After grabbing his hat, he closed the front door behind him and immediately his mood felt lighter. His wife was a difficult woman but Harry pushed all thoughts of her to the back of his mind as he began to whistle a happy tune and headed towards the market. It’d be no more shank’s pony for him if he managed to catch up with Danny. His mate had a very tidy motorbike and sidecar for sale and Harry was hoping to get it for a good price. Some might call it a luxury but Harry thought it was a necessity. After all, business on the black market was booming. Selling rationed goods and hard-to-come-by items was making Harry a small fortune and the sidecar would be the ideal transport for his stock.

Winnie Berry was pleased to put her feet up after a busy morning as the landlady of the Battersea Tavern. She sat in an armchair next to the hearth in the front room above the pub and kicked off her shoes before giving her aching bunion a gentle rub.

Rachel Robb, her young loyal barmaid and good friend, popped her head around the door. ‘Do you want a cuppa, Win?’

‘You come and sit yourself down, I’ll do it,’ Winnie answered and she began to push her plump body out of the chair.

‘No, stay where you are,’ Rachel protested. ‘The kettle is already on.’

Winnie smiled fondly at the girl, grateful for Rachel’s caring ways. In fact, since Winnie’s husband, Brian, had left almost a year earlier, she was grateful for all the support Rachel had given her. Winnie’s mind drifted to Brian. She found herself often thinking about him but not with any fondness. Her husband had been a mean man who’d think nothing of giving her a clout or two. For years, she’d lived under his rule, doing his bidding and never daring to fight back. But everything had changed when Jan came into her life and Winnie had thought that Jan was the child she’d given up for adoption. In order to make things up to her long-lost daughter, Winnie had found an inner strength and had stood up to Brian’s tyrannical ways. She wished now that she’d been stronger years earlier and hadn’t let Brian ruin her life for so long. But there’s no point crying over spilt milk, she thought. What’s done is done. And though Brian reaped half the profits from the pub, at least they were no longer living under the same roof.

Winnie smiled affectionately at Rachel when the girl returned with two cups of tea. ‘I should think Martha will be awake any minute now,’ she said as she placed a cup on a table next to Winnie. And right on cue, before Rachel had sat down, they heard Martha crying from the bedroom next door. Winnie chuckled. ‘That granddaughter of mine is as regular as clockwork.’

‘She really is. She’s been asleep for exactly one hour,’ Rachel replied as she hurried from the room.

Martha’s cries subsided and Rachel returned carrying her baby daughter in her arms, cooing lightly at her.

‘Give her here to her nanny,’ Winnie said with outstretched arms. ‘You drink your tea, love, and I’ll have a cuddle.’

Rachel carefully handed Martha to Winnie and threw herself down onto the armchair opposite. ‘I’m worn out, Win. She’s had me up three times in the night and doesn’t sleep past six-thirty in the morning.’

‘I know. Babies may be little but they’re hard work. Go and have a lie down. I’ll keep an eye on Martha.’

‘No, but thanks. I wouldn’t be able to sleep,’ Rachel answered wistfully.

‘Are you still worrying about Hilda?’

‘Yes. I know it’s daft but I can’t help thinking that now that Jan has joined the Civil Nursing Reserve, Hilda will get lonely. They spent so much time together making dresses. I’m sure having Jan around helped to keep Hilda sober. And now that Jan has been posted to St Thomas’s Hospital, Hilda might go off the rails again.’

‘Listen, love. Hilda wasn’t a good mother to you. Well, she wasn’t any sort of mother at all to you. But you can’t fault her as a grandmother to little Martha here. Hilda hasn’t touched a drop of booze since she found out that you were pregnant. She made you a promise and she’s kept to it. She’s trying her best to make up for all the years she lost as your mother.’

‘I know, but, like I said, she’s always had Jan around and now she hasn’t.’

‘Time will tell. But there’s no point in worrying over something that hasn’t happened. ’Ere, I think Martha wants a feed,’ Winnie said. She gave her precious granddaughter a gentle kiss on her forehead, savouring the sweet smell of the baby, and then handed her back to Rachel. ‘Hilda won’t be the only one to miss Jan. I will an’ all. She’s not my daughter by blood but she is in every other way and I’m ever so proud of her.’

‘And so you should be. I’m proud of her too and I’ll miss her. Jan’s my best friend. It won’t be the same here without her.’

‘I hope she gets a chance to visit us again soon. It was lovely to see her last week. I worry myself silly about her so I was glad to hear that the retired nurses are looking after the trainees. Fancy some of them sleeping in the basement of the hospital. Mind you, from what she said, it sounded very comfortable.’

‘And didn’t she look smashing in her uniform?’

‘Oh, she really did! Terry’s eyes nearly popped out of his head,’ Winnie chortled. ‘I’m surprised he hasn’t yet asked Jan to marry him. I’d have thought he would have put a ring on her finger, especially as she’s going to be working with all those doctors.’

‘Terry knows he hasn’t got to worry about losing Jan to a doctor. She’s smitten with him.’

‘They make a lovely couple,’ Winnie said, smiling fondly. ‘I’ll have this cuppa and then I’m going to pop to the post office. I’ve got another letter to post to her.’

‘I can take it, if you like?’

‘Thanks, love, but I could do with a bit of fresh air. I was thinking, now that Jan has moved out, we could do with an extra pair of hands, so I reckon it’ll be a good idea to rent out her room to someone who can work behind the bar with me.’

‘But I can manage with Martha and working downstairs.’

‘I know you can, love, but as she grows, she’ll demand more attention. Anyway, I could do with the extra money coming in. What with Brian demanding half the profits and then there’s the increased taxes on the beer, a couple of bob a week from renting that room will come in handy.’

‘It ain’t right that Mr Berry takes money for doing nothing.’

Winnie sighed. ‘You can say that again. He does bugger all but at least I get to have my name above the door so he can’t walk back in here and throw me out.’

‘I suppose, but it still doesn’t seem right.’

‘It ain’t,’ Winnie said through tight lips. ‘My old man’s a sly sod! He realised he wouldn’t be able to sell the place for what it’s worth, not with a war on. And he’s not prepared to work in the pub himself. So here’s me, putting in all the hours while he’s sitting pretty. But what could I do? He had me over a barrel. It was either agree to his demands or risk him taking the pub off me. But it’s me having the last laugh. Between you and me, I’m making a bit more money than I’m putting though the books.’

Rachel looked at Winnie with her eyes stretched wide. ‘How?’ she asked, sounding surprised.

‘I’ve been buying the spirits from Have-it Harry and now he’s confident he can get his hands on some beer an’ all.’

‘Isn’t that illegal?’

‘Shush, yes, of course it is. Everything Harry sells is on the black market and mostly through the back door. You know me, I’m as straight as a die usually but needs must.’

‘I can’t say I blame you, Win. And Harry makes a lot of people’s lives a bit easier.’

‘Yes, for those who can afford to buy from him. He ain’t cheap. But a lot of folk like to top up their rations.’

‘He does good trade in the pub.’

‘He does and I get a discount for allowing him to work out of my pub, so it’s a win-win situation for us both.’ Winnie hoped she wasn’t blushing as she spoke about Harry. Even the mention of his name gave her butterflies and left her feeling flushed.

Rachel yawned and then asked, ‘Have you got anyone in mind for Jan’s old room?’

Martha had fallen asleep on Rachel’s breast and Winnie could see that Rachel’s eyes were looking heavy. ‘Yes, love; Lucy Little from the florist’s. She was telling me that the flowers make her sneeze, she can’t stand it. But she can’t afford to leave the job because she’d lose her room, which comes with it.’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever said more than two words to her but she seems nice enough,’ Rachel replied before yawning again.

‘Right, that’s it. You can hardly keep your eyes open. Go on, off to bed, the pair of you. And don’t worry about Hilda. She won’t let you or Martha down, I’m sure of it.’

‘Thanks, Win. I think I will have a nap but don’t let me sleep for too long. Give me a shout when you get back from the post office.’

‘Will do, love,’ Winnie replied as Rachel slumped off.

Winnie checked the clock on the mantelpiece and saw it was just after four o’clock. She squeezed her aching feet back into her shoes and winced as she heaved herself out of the green, wing-backed armchair. After wrapping a scarf over her head and tying it under her chin, she pulled on her coat, grabbed her handbag and went downstairs. She trudged towards the local shops in the hope of seeing Lucy Little. Now that Winnie knew that Rachel wasn’t adverse to the idea of Lucy living with them, she could put the offer to the young lady and she felt confident that Lucy would readily accept. But first things first – Winnie’s priority was to post her letter to dear Jan.

It had taken Winnie a while to walk to the shops and she’d had a good natter with Mrs Dawes, the wife of the postmaster. Winnie had felt fit to burst with pride as she’d told the woman all about Jan working at St Thomas’s Hospital in Westminster. It sounded very well-to-do! And now, as she made her way to the florist’s, Winnie was filled with a warm feeling, knowing that Jan would soon receive the letter. She’d written about the local gossip from the pub and told her that Rachel and Terry both sent their love. She pictured Jan reading the letter with a smile on her face.

Just as Winnie arrived at the florist’s, Lucy was coming out of the shop, her eyes red-rimmed and watering.

‘Hello, love, are you all right?’ Winnie asked, concerned.

‘Hello, Mrs Berry. Oh, this,’ Lucy said, indicating her eyes. ‘Yes, I’m fine, thanks. It’s the flowers that make me like this. I was just about to lock up. Did you want to buy anything?’

‘No, but I was hoping to catch you. I’ve got a proposition for you.’

Lucy sniffed and pulled a handkerchief from her coat pocket, then blew her nose. ‘Sorry, what is it?’

‘Well, I thought you might like to come and work in the pub and rent a room upstairs. You’d be living with me, Rachel and baby Martha,’ Winnie replied with a broad smile.

‘Oh,’ Lucy mumbled before lowering her eyes to the ground.

Winnie had been expecting Lucy to jump at her offer and wondered why the girl didn’t seem to be very keen. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.

‘Erm, no, it’s – erm – ever so kind of you.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘I don’t know how to put this, but – but it’s Rachel and the baby.’

‘What about them?’

‘She’s … well, Rachel’s not married. I’m not sure that it would be a good idea for me to be living with her, you know, in case I get tarred with the same brush.’

Winnie sucked in a sharp lungful of air and her chin jutted forward. ‘How dare you insinuate that Rachel is anything but a nice, decent girl! And that baby is my granddaughter!’

Lucy hung her head. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Berry, I didn’t mean to offend you.’

‘Too late, young lady; you have and you can stick my offer where the sun don’t shine!’ Winnie snapped. She was about to spin on her heel and march off when the unmistakable sound of the air-raid warning siren suddenly filled the air.

Lucy looked at Winnie, her sore eyes now filled with fear. She gasped and cried out, ‘Oh, no! The Jerries are coming! I knew they would! They’re gonna kill us all!’

‘It’s all right. It’ll likely be a false alarm again. But get yourself off to the public shelter, better to be safe than sorry.’

Lucy began gasping for breath and her face drained of all colour.

‘Did you hear me? You need to get to a shelter,’ Winnie repeated.

The girl stared blankly ahead, her breaths rapid. Winnie took Lucy squarely by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. ‘Go to a shelter, Lucy,’ she repeated firmly.

Lucy nodded but remained rooted to the spot. All around, people were running, some were crying. The sound of the sirens screeched loudly. Winnie could feel the panic in the air. ‘Come on,’ she said impatiently, grabbing Lucy’s arm, dragging her along the street. She didn’t have time for this. She had to get back to the pub. To Rachel and Martha. But she couldn’t leave Lucy in the street, paralysed with fear.

As they neared the public air-raid shelter, Winnie was relieved to see one of her customers. ‘ ’Ere, Phil, take Lucy with you,’ she said, gently pushing the girl towards the middle-aged man.

‘Ain’t you coming in?’ he asked.

‘No, Rachel’s all alone at the pub.’

‘You won’t get back there in time. Come in here, it’ll be safer.’

Winnie didn’t reply. She was already hurrying in the opposite direction and back towards the Battersea Tavern. Her legs wouldn’t move fast enough and she was beginning to struggle for breath. She heard the sound of an engine beside her and looked over to see Have-it Harry Hampton riding a motorbike with a sidecar.

He pulled up against the kerb and shouted, ‘Get in,’ nodding towards the small carriage.

‘I ain’t getting in that contraption!’

‘It’ll get you back to the pub at double speed. Just get in, woman.’

Winnie huffed but she knew that Harry was right. She would get back to Rachel a lot quicker in the sidecar than she would on foot. Reluctantly, she climbed in though it was a struggle. Harry sped off and soon they arrived outside the pub. He was quick to jump off the bike and rushed to help pull her out of the carriage.

As she clambered out, Winnie looked skyward, horrified to see hundreds of planes overhead. ‘Good grief!’ she muttered and swallowed hard.

Harry looked up too. ‘Christ alive, there’s bloody loads of ’em! Are you all right? I need to get back to Carmen.’

‘Yes, yes, Harry. Go. Thanks for the lift,’ she answered hastily.

Winnie fumbled in her handbag for the back-door key. The thud of the ack-ack guns and the hammering sound of gunfire overhead made her heart race. She panicked. Finally, finding the key, she let herself in to see Rachel sitting on the stairs with Martha screaming in her arms.

‘I’m scared, Win. What do I do? I have to protect my baby!’

‘It’s all right, love,’ Winnie soothed, though she was scared too. She’d never seen so many Luftwaffe planes in the sky before and had a terrible feeling that something awful was about to be unleashed on London. There was no time left to get to the public shelter on the adjoining street. ‘Down to the cellar, quickly,’ she said and beckoned Rachel towards the door.

‘But what if the pub gets bombed? The whole thing will come down on top of us.’

‘We won’t get bombed, just try and keep calm.’

They hurried down the stairs to the cellar and Winnie took Martha as Rachel pulled an old bar stool from against the wall. Instantly, Martha stopped crying when Winnie held her against her ample chest.

‘Sit down, Win.’

‘No, I’m fine. I’ll sit just here.’ She passed the baby back to Rachel and then sat on the third step of the stairs.

‘Oh, Win, I’m so scared.’

‘Shush now, let me listen. Just sit tight. It’ll be all right. I think the planes are passing over us.’

‘Are you sure? I think I can hear explosions,’ Rachel cried, tears rolling down her cheeks.

‘They’re a long way off. Probably the other side of the river,’ Winnie answered, suddenly worried for Jan’s safety.

Everyone had been dreading this. Customers had talked about the Germans invading by air but Winnie had never really believed it would happen. Granted, the aerodromes had been attacked but she’d been sure that the Royal Air Force would have held off the Germans from bombing London. She shook her head in disbelief, still reeling at the sheer amount of planes she’d seen in the sky.

‘What, Win? What are you thinking?’ Rachel asked.

‘Nothing, love,’ Winnie lied. She couldn’t tell Rachel what she’d seen flying over their heads. The girl was already in a bad enough state. ‘I was just thinking that Jan is probably going to be busy. It’s not a nice thought.’

‘I can’t bear it! It’s too awful to contemplate.’

They sat in silence, both tense and listening for every muffled sound. The planes’ engines became a distant hum and eventually the aerial gunfire ceased. The air-raid warning siren wailed out to signal the all-clear. At last, after a tense hour or two, Winnie let out a long sigh of relief. They’d come through it unscathed though she knew that tomorrow’s papers would be filled with tragic news of Londoners being killed by German explosives.

Winnie’s mind turned. If only she could speak to Jan. She needed to know about the welfare of her unofficially adopted daughter. Please be safe, Jan, she prayed in her head. Please, God, keep my Jan safe.

Cheryl Hampton rushed through the front door and dashed into the living room, desperate to know that her family were safe and accounted for. She barged into the room to find her mother having a go at her father, as usual.

Her moth. . .