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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2017
Copyright © HarperCollins 2017
Cover photography © Jeff Cottenden 2017
Cover design © Charlotte Abrams-Simpson 2017
Molly Green asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008238940
Ebook Edition © November 2017 ISBN: 9780008238957
Version: 2018-01-23
To my dear friend June who was an evacuee in the Second World War, although nothing she experienced has found its way into this novel.
To all Dr Barnardo’s orphans during the Second World War who were the inspiration for this series.
Cambridgeshire, 1936
June raced home from the last class of the day, wanting to make sure the bedroom she shared with her younger sister Clara was free so she could do her homework in peace. Good, she thought as she opened the front door. She could hear Clara downstairs talking to their mother.
‘Mum, I’m home,’ June called as she pulled off her coat and hat and hung them on a hook in the narrow hallway. She put her head in the kitchen door.
‘Would you like a cup of tea, June, and a piece of sponge?’ Her mother began to cut a slice from the cake. ‘I’ve just taken it out of the oven.’
‘I’ll come down in a bit. I’ve got two lots of homework, and we’ve got an English test tomorrow.’ She hesitated, then asked, ‘Where’s Dad?’
A shadow crossed her mother’s face. ‘He won’t be here yet. He’s up at the stadium.’
June blew out her cheeks in relief as she ran up the stairs, two at a time, to her room. She settled at the small table under the window, and had finally worked out how to solve the mathematics problem when she heard her sister flying up the stairs and footsteps thundering behind – her father’s. June’s heart pounded as she threw down her pencil and rushed to the door.
‘Don’t, Daddy! Don’t hit me!’ Clara screamed as she tried to kick out to escape their father’s powerful arms. ‘I didn’t do anything.’
‘Leave her alone!’ June used every ounce of her strength to wrench her sister away from her father’s grasp. What little thing had Clara done this time to make her father so angry?
‘Stop interfering, you!’
For a split second June was caught by his maddened eyes. She smelled the beer on his breath as he made to snatch Clara back. He cursed as Clara’s foot caught him on the shin. June rushed towards her father, her hand up ready to hit him. Clara ducked out of his way and turned to run but she slipped on the rug, losing her balance. June tried to grab her but her hand clutched air. She could only stand frozen in horror as Clara slowly fell backwards down the stairs.
She didn’t know if it was she or her younger sister who screamed.
Liverpool, December 1941
The train to Liverpool was nine hours late pulling out of Euston Station. When it finally departed, at five minutes to ten at night, it was to a cacophony of clanking and shouting, belching steam, and conductors constantly blowing their whistles. June stuck her head out of the nearest grimy window to catch the last glimpse of her aunt running along the platform. She kept up for a few seconds, her handkerchief a small white flag, but as the train gathered speed she fell back and her outline faded into the mist. Dearest Aunt Ada. June was going to miss her.