Within a few minutes they were driving up to the door of the hospital. Liam pulled open the passenger door of the van and lifted Harry into his arms.

‘He’s worse,’ Liam said to Tommy, as he half-ran, half-walked with him, protecting the precious bundle in his arms. In their haste, not one of them noticed the wooden cross as it slipped from Harry’s fingers and bounced down the hospital steps.

Chapter Eight

The promise of sunshine held as May teased out the blossom on the trees in the churchyard and the priory garden. This particular Saturday morning, the sky had shone the clearest blue and the mildness of the air held the promise of a full day of play for every child who ran out of the house and headed up to the bombed-out wasteland. A football match, to end only when darkness fell, would begin as soon as every boy in the four streets, keen to be picked to play by Malachi Malone, the owner of the only ball, was up at the wasteland. Every boy except for little Paddy who had again made excuses to fall behind his siblings and almost had to leave Max under the bed in his box due to Peggy’s watchful eye and the fact that his father was lying in his bed, refusing to rise.

Little Paddy had managed to take some crumbs from the bottom of the empty biscuit tin, a few sultanas, too precious to throw out and too few to serve any purpose, from the press and stole Max away with only seconds to spare before Peggy caught him. Peggy was at the kitchen table, the thick stub of a pencil in one hand. A scrap of paper lay on the table before her and a letter that she hurriedly shoved back into an official-looking brown envelope. She looked up as her son came into the room.

‘Paddy, what the hell is wrong with you? Get yourself out of the door, right now. They’ve all gone out to play and you’re supposed to be looking after them. Get up there before Malachi starts another fight with your brothers. Go on, get out.’

Little Paddy had slipped Max into his coat pocket and, as he wriggled in there, little Paddy, his heart beating wildly, placed his hands over the outside to conceal Max from Peggy’s view. ‘Mam, I’m only here because I want to help you. Da says he’s not getting up today, that his back is bad. He said would you take him a cuppa tea up and I have to go and get him an ounce of Old Holborn from Simpsons in the parade.’