Staring at all the red buses chugging slowly into the crowded station, Sally tried to recall where the bus stop was, but when Ronnie asked a man which bus would take them to Finsbury Park, he was told to catch a trolleybus.

‘Take the 653,’ he advised. ‘That should do you.’

In their ignorance the children hopped on to a trolleybus going the wrong way, so they hopped off and waited for one that was going the right way. When they finally disembarked from the bus at Finsbury Park, it was gone eight and they were both now starving hungry. Almost in tears, weary Sally wailed, ‘How far now?’

‘Shut your moaning!’ Ronnie barked.

Snivelling quietly, Sally asked, ‘Do you know where we are?’

‘Yeah,’ he answered and pointed to a ruined pile of rubble from which dangled a shattered street sign: GLADSTONE GARDENS. Ronnie laboriously spelt out the letters. ‘This was where we lived.’

Cautiously making their way around tumbled metal arches and gaping huge holes from which filthy water gushed, they came across a gang of kids about their own age who, even in the early-morning light, were playing among the filth and dirt, yelling and screaming at each other as they foraged like feral animals for anything they could recoup from the ruin.

‘We lived here?’ Sally gulped. ‘This was home?’

Close to tears, Ronnie swiped tears from his grubby cheeks before he mumbled, ‘Not any more, it ain’t.’

33. Shock Waves

Rosie’s labour was gruelling for all concerned but especially so for the poor mother, who thrashed about on the bed in the delivery suite calling out her children’s names in between crying out in pain as she tried to deliver her baby. With Ada by her side, Rosie felt a little easier, gripping Ada’s hand and barely letting go of it through the long hours of her labour.

‘Don’t leave me,’ she begged.

‘Don’t worry, I’m here, dear,’ Ada soothed. ‘You’re doing well,’ she lied – what else could she say? We’re worried sick about you and the health of your baby? The most important thing was to reassure Rosie now that she was in labour and to hope that, against the odds, she would deliver a healthy child. ‘Remember what we did in the exercise classes, dear? Nice deep breaths and slowly exhaling.’

In between contractions Rosie wildly asked about Ronnie and Sally. ‘Any news? Are they safe? Have you called the police?’

Matron, who was monitoring the patient’s progress at the end of the bed, shook her head. ‘The police are out looking for them,’ she assured Rosie. ‘Remember, they were spotted at Grange Station?’ she added for what must have been the fifteenth time. ‘They won’t have got far.’

‘But they’re so little,’ Rosie gasped as another contraction started. ‘Oh, God, what if something happens to my children?’