‘Me drink ’im cordial,’ said the eldest child. ‘Yeah, me too,’ piped her sister.

‘Let’s go and see if we’ve got any.’ She felt them gripping her wrist as they slowly negotiated the steps, and the memory of how Danny used to do the same thing when he was small almost broke her resolve not to cry.

‘I’ll take care of this lot,’ said Sandra as she reached for the squalling baby. ‘Go and have a cup of tea and a chat with Amy out on the back veranda. You’ve done enough for a while.’

Rebecca saw how tenderly Sandra took the baby into her arms, and how sweetly she smiled at the two bewildered little girls and held out her hand to them. She felt a tear slowly roll down her cheek as Sandra led them towards the kitchen. She must have been a wonderful mother – how cruel Fate had been to take away her own little boy.

The tears continued to flow as she sank into a veranda chair and prayed fervently that Danny would come home.

*

He could just make out the boy’s face through the smoke and see the hand reaching out to him. For an instant he was back in Malaya and it was Hakim who needed rescuing. He blinked away the memory and focused on the scared little boy who looked up at him with such hope and joy.

‘Daddy? Is that really you?’

His heart thudded and his mouth dried as he looked into those trusting eyes and tried not to let the boy see how deeply he’d been affected by his question. ‘I’ve just come to help you,’ he said quietly. ‘I ain’t your daddy.’

‘But you look like him,’ the boy stuttered, the tears glistening in his eyes.

He stepped through the smoke that floated between them and squatted down. ‘We soldiers all look alike in these coats,’ he said, his gaze taking in the grazes and cuts and the bruising on the boy’s arms. There was also a trickle of blood oozing through his short brown hair. ‘It looks like you’ve had a bit of a fight with that big rock, mate,’ he said. ‘Mind if I take a look at the damage?’

‘I’ll be right,’ he replied with more than a hint of bravado.

‘I’m sure you will,’ he murmured as he checked the boy’s cut. He’d obviously fallen from that rock ledge and hit his head on the way down, but it was a glancing blow and the wound wasn’t deep. ‘Reckon all your brains are still in there,’ he said with a smile, ‘but you’ll have a bonzer lump to show off to your mates tomorrow.’

‘You’re John Miller, aren’t you? I’m Danny. Danny Jackson, and my dad was a soldier, just like you.’