Maggie shook her head. That was just it – she hadn’t. She hadn’t been fond of him at all. She’d lost track of the number of times she’d wished he were dead and that the rows and the shouting might stop. And yet, for all his faults, he’d been her father. And now, he was almost certainly gone and she’d never get the chance to make it up with him. The thought of it was breaking her heart.

Maggie pulled a handkerchief from her bag, wiped her nose and sniffed. What good was crying, after all? She had to pull herself together.

Mutti. What would she say to Mutti? She’d have to let her know. And on top of the shock of losing Dad, they no longer had a home. Nowhere for Vi or Mutti – or her – to come home to.

She started to ask the WVS woman what she needed to do because there must be a procedure but the woman shushed her. ‘There now, love, don’t take on so. All in good time. Try to drink your tea and eat your bun. Don’t try to speak. You’ve had an awful upset.’

And then, as if things couldn’t possibly get any worse, the sirens went off.

A collective cry of ‘Oh no!’ rang out. Men – and women – muttered and swore. Heads were shaken and eyes, white in dirty faces, opened wide in alarm.

The WVS women nodded at each other and calmly started to pack up and shoo people away.

‘Come along! To the shelters. That’s the siren. Off you go!’

Maggie was helped to her feet, the cup was snatched away and a woman linked her arm. She tried to object. She couldn’t go into a shelter now; Brummie would be waiting. She tried to explain but no one listened. She was hurried and bundled down into an Underground station.

It was only once they got down the flights of steps and were among the crowds on the eastbound platform, that Maggie managed to disentangle herself from the WVS woman and slip away.

The dank platform was heaving with people, some loaded up with suitcases, others already getting ready to bed down for the night with blankets and mattresses.

Not this again. The thought of spending the night down here was almost more than Maggie could bear. And in Charity’s best coat too. She didn’t dare take it off – she’d freeze – but she’d have to choose her bit of ground carefully.

Maggie picked her way through the masses of people, looking for a space. The floor was filthy – was that blood there? – oh, and the stench of sweat – and worse – was enough to turn your stomach.

She finally found a spot at the back of the platform where she could lean her back up against a wall. She sat down wearily.