‘Shut up and don’t be cheeky,’ his mother said crossly, annoyed that the existence of Jimmy’s dad had been brought to Paul’s attention.

Trying to ignore the mayhem, Adam clapped Paul on the back, saying regretfully, ‘I’m going to have to be making tracks for the mill in another twenty minutes or so, Paul. We’ll catch up on things tonight. How long a leave do you have? Twenty-four hours or forty-eight?’

‘Forty-eight.’ With relief, Paul saw that the children were finally being herded out of the room. ‘And I’m not looking for any high life, so don’t start telling me of village dances or thrashes in Harrogate. I just want to wander around Shuttleworth Hall and pretend that the war doesn’t exist.’

‘High life?’ Ivy Spinx said as a parting shot from the doorway. ‘You won’t find any ‘igh life round ‘ere. All you’ll find round ‘ere is miles an’ miles of boring countryside and soddin’ sheep!’

When the door had safely closed behind her, Paul grinned. ‘I take it Ivy doesn’t appreciate country life?’

‘She loathes it,’ Vicky said, equally amused. ‘The only thing she likes about Little Ridding is the fish and chip shop, though even that has its disappointments.’

‘And why is that?’

‘It doesn’t also sell pie and mash. And without pie and mash—and dancing at the Empire Square ballroom—life isn’t worth living for Ivy.’

When Adam had left for Keighley and after Paul had reacquainted himself with what had once been his rose nursery and was now nothing but furrow after furrow of vegetables, they walked into Little Ridding together.

‘It’s hard not having news of them, isn’t it?’ he said as a member of the Home Guard pedalled past them on a rusty bicycle.

She nodded, knowing it must be even harder for him than it was for her, for Paul had not only family to worry about, but the woman he loved, also.

She shifted her empty shopping basket a little higher on her arm, saying as she did so, ‘At the beginning of the war I thought we wouldn’t have to worry like this. I thought Berlin would be too far away for our bombers to reach it.’

‘So did we all,’ Paul said drily. ‘Including Göring.’

Vicky managed a slight smile. Rumour had it that Göring had assured Hitler British bombers would never reach Berlin—on the morning of the very day that the RAF carried out a three-hour bombing raid.

‘I just pray they are all safe,’ she said, her smile fading. ‘Every morning and every evening, and lots of times in between, I just pray that all our family—and Eva—are safe.’

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Schloss Niedernhall and Berlin, April 1943

Claus stood at the entrance of the vast, throng-filled drawing room and tried to still the nervous tic jumping at the side of his right eye. Will power had no effect on it. The tic still jumped, betraying his inner tumult as he played the part of a guest in the Schloss that still, in name at least, belonged to him.