‘I’m only telling you what I heard in’t pub t’other day,’ the leader told his captivated audience.

‘What were you doin’ in’t pub anyway?’ his friend demanded.

‘Buying fags for mi mother,’ the gang leader snapped. ‘Any more bleedin’ questions?’

Wide-eyed Ronnie, years younger than the boys he had been eavesdropping on, became haunted by this piece of completely fictitious information. Obsessed, he began to wonder if his dad might have sneaked into the country like the ringleader had said. What if he had come back to their Finsbury Park block of flats where they had lived as a family? A recurring thought went around and around Ronnie’s confused little head: what if his dad had risked his life to visit his family and found them all gone? How would he have felt? The very thought reduced Ronnie to tears and nightmares. Had his mother left a forwarding address? Remembering how ill she had been when they left London, Ronnie couldn’t imagine she would have had her wits about her and done just that; and, even if she had, there was a good chance that whoever she had left it with had been bombed out or had left London too.

Frantic with fear, Ronnie worried that his dad, like the boys at school had whispered, might have been shot for deserting his post if he’d tried to get home to see them. Wild speculation blurred with an overactive imagination led poor bewildered Ronnie to devise a crazy plan which involved him running away, back to London to search for his dad, or at least returning to what had been his home and leaving his Mary Vale address with any neighbours that he spotted. Ronnie reasoned that if his dad could risk being shot just to check up on his family’s safety, he could at least risk something in return.

Ronnie’s sketchy run-away plan did not involve Sally; it was a dangerous journey which he planned to do solo. Though Ronnie worried about leaving his little sister behind, the very last thing he wanted was Sally trailing along with him. He could travel more quickly without her, and anyway (Ronnie convinced himself) Sally would be far better off and safer with Mrs Larkin.

Several days later Sybil was delighted to hear that Rosie was back on the ward. Knowing she would get little information from Sister Mann, she approached Dora, who told Sybil that Rosie was still to be bed-bound.

‘The sooner her pregnancy is over the better,’ Dora confided in Sybil. ‘It’s taking all the strength out of the poor woman.’

Sybil did a quick calculation. ‘It can’t be long now – we’re due about the same time.’

Dora cast an appraising glance at Sybil’s tummy. ‘Yes, but you’re strong and healthy; I only wish I could say the same for Rosie. Hopefully she’ll perk up a bit when she sees her children this afternoon.’