Ellen ran down the stairs and found that Anna had sat the older children at the table, had made jam sandwiches and cut them into six pieces, put some more wood on the fire and hung the kettle over the flames. Ellen took a large teapot from the cupboard and made tea whilst she explained what had happened upstairs.

‘If we take Thomas and Aron up with us, the others will be all right for five minutes.’ Ellen glanced round the room. The fireguard was in front of the fire and the front and back doors were locked, and in any case the children would be busy eating. But first she’d take Mrs Johnson a cup of tea as she’d promised; a good strong cup with a teaspoon of sugar in it.

‘We’re just going to help the lady upstairs,’ she told Sarah and Mary when she came down again. ‘Can you two be in charge and look after Zophia and Jakub? We’ll take Thomas and Aron up with us, so we’re trusting you to be very, very good and eat up your bread and jam.’ Anna translated for Zophia and Jakub, who both nodded just as Sarah and Mary had done, picked up Aron, and followed Ellen and Thomas upstairs.

The old lady exclaimed and smiled when she saw the two children, who sat on the floor whilst their mothers, each with an arm under her, heaved her on to her feet and deposited her back into bed. Ellen plumped up her pillow and straightened her sheets and blankets, and said she’d bring her another cup of tea if she’d like one. She refused. ‘Perhaps not, I think,’ she said, ‘but thank you very much, both of you lovely ladies.’ She looked at Anna. ‘You are very beautiful,’ she said. ‘Not from these parts, I think?’

‘No,’ Anna answered. ‘I am from Poland.’

‘Ah.’ Mrs Johnson’s expression changed, and she murmured, ‘Not a happy country just now.’

‘No, not for some,’ Anna said quietly.

The old lady reached out and took her hand. ‘You will be safe here,’ she said. ‘I know this.’

Ellen was surprised to see what she thought was a flash of understanding between them. Did she think Anna and Filip hadn’t been safe at home? Mrs Johnson, it seemed, wasn’t just a poor bedridden old lady. She knows more than I do, Ellen mused.

Downstairs again, she poured tea for herself and Anna and told the children how good they had been. They all had jam spread across their faces and she suspected that they had helped themselves out of the jar.

‘May we get down now, please?’ Sarah asked. ‘We’d like to play.’

‘Would you like some paper and pencils to draw pictures?’ Ellen asked.

‘Yes, please.’ Mary slid down from her chair. ‘I’m going to draw a picture for Dada to show him when he comes home.’