No one spoke. A few people exchanged frowns and worried looks. Then the redhead piped up again. ‘And what about us, Sir?’ she asked, tilting her chin. Her body was held rigid, her jaw clenched. She looked ready for a fight.

Lord Ashford hesitated for a moment, then his face broke into a smile. He was even more handsome when he smiled.

‘You, Miss Davenport? What’s to become of you?’ He laughed. ‘Why, didn’t I say?’ He held out his arms. ‘You’re all coming too!’

Chapter 2

‘You ain’t going and that’s my final word!’

Maggie was lifting the pan of boiled potatoes from the stove to the sink as, behind her, Dad yelled and thumped the kitchen table. The plates and cutlery rattled. The cat, Tabby, shot out through the open back door.

Dad’s face was beetroot, his fists tightly closed. He’d never used them – yet – but perhaps the day was getting closer.

She could kick herself. Why had she even told him the bank was moving? She should have made up a story about losing her job. She could’ve said the place had been bombed out, like the munitions factory. He’d have believed that. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for two workplaces to have bought it. Not with the way things were going: every night now, enemy planes came and set a different part of the city ablaze.

And besides, it wasn’t as though she even wanted to go. The other girls had been so excited after Lord Ashford’s announcement that hardly a stroke of work had been done all day. Although the raids and dogfights overhead hadn’t helped. Twice, they’d had to leave their desks and file down into the bank’s basement to take cover for an hour or more.

As for the dreaded encounter with Miss Sharp the supervisor, she’d merely nodded in Maggie’s direction and said mildly, ‘Ah, there you are, Miss Corbett. Welcome to Rosman’s.’ She’d waved a finger towards a girl with blonde curls, a grown-up Shirley Temple type. ‘There’s your desk. Next to Miss Fry.’

The girls had exchanged smiles. Maggie needn’t have worried about being late, after all.

No, the others could be as thrilled at the prospect as they liked but the thought of leaving London had left Maggie cold. How could she possibly go? She’d never been away from home before but, besides that, it would be like running away from the war itself. And who’d be here for Mutti and Violet, when they came back?

‘Who’ll cook me dinner, if you go gallivanting off?’ Dad asked, interrupting her thoughts. ‘First your mother disappears—’

As if she’d had any choice in the matter.

‘—and then your sister.’