‘Come on,’ he said, and started running again.

‘But—’ Kirsty began.

‘I can’t do it again,’ said Johnny. ‘It’ll never be the right time again.’

Bigmac and Wobbler weren’t in trouble, if only because there had been so much trouble just recently that there was, for a while, no more to get into.

‘This is an air-raid shelter?’ said Bigmac. ‘I thought they were all – you know, steel and stuff. Big doors that go hiss. Lights flashing on and off. You know.’ He heaved on one end of a shed which had smashed into the air-raid shelter belonging to No. 9. ‘Not just some corrugated iron and dirt with lettuces growing on top.’

Wobbler had rescued a shovel from the ruin of someone’s greenhouse, and used it to heave bricks out of the way. The shelter door opened and a middle-aged woman staggered out.

She was wearing a floral pinny over a nightdress, and holding a goldfish bowl with two fish in it. A small girl was clinging to her skirts.

‘Where’s Michael?’ the woman shouted. ‘Where is he? Has anyone seen him? I turned my back for two seconds to grab Adolf and Stalin and he was out the door like a—’

‘Kid in a green jersey?’ said Wobbler. ‘Got glasses? Ears like the World Cup? He’s looking for shrapnel.’

‘He’s safe?’ She sagged with relief ‘I don’t know what I’d have told his mother!’

‘You all right?’ said Bigmac. ‘I’m afraid your house is a bit … flatter than it was …’

Mrs Density looked at what was left of No. 9.

‘Oh, well. Worse things happen at sea,’ she said vaguely.

‘Do they?’ said Bigmac, mystified.

‘It’s just a blessing we weren’t in it,’ said Mrs Density.

There was a clink of brickwork and a fireman slid down the debris towards them.

‘All right, Mrs Density?’ he said. ‘I reckon you’re the last one. Fancy a nice cup of tea?’

‘Oh, hello, Bill,’ she said.

‘Who’re these lads, then?’ said the fireman.

‘We … were just helping out,’ said Wobbler

‘Were you? Oh. Right. Well, come away out of it, the pair of you. We reckon there’s an unexploded one at Number 12.’ The fireman stared at Bigmac’s clothes for a moment, and then shrugged. He gently took the goldfish bowl from Mrs Density and put his other arm around her shoulders.

‘A nice cup of tea and a blanket,’ he said. ‘Just the thing, eh? Come along, luv.’

The boys watched them slide and scramble through the fallen bricks.

‘You get bombed and they give you a cup of tea?’ said Bigmac.

‘I s’pose it’s better than getting bombed and never ever getting one again,’ said Wobbler. ‘Anyway, there—’

‘Eeeeyyyyooooowwwwmmmm!’ screamed a voice behind them.

They turned. Wobbler’s grandfather was standing on a pile of bricks and looked like a small devil in the light of the fires. He was covered in soot, and was waving something through the air and making aeroplane noises.

‘That looks like—’ Bigmac began.