Val drained the last of her tea and placed the cup and saucer on the coffee table with an air of finality. ‘So what’ll it be?’ she queried, already confident of the answer, although she was intrigued by the way Grace Francis was studying her. Unflinchingly. It seemed out of character. ‘Don’t you worry about your little girl, love,’ she said, ‘I’ll look after her.’

‘Yes,’ Grace replied, her gaze still unflinching, ‘yes, I believe you will.’

Well, well, Val thought. There’s a bit of spirit in our Grace after all. Good for you, love. She poured them a second cup of tea from the pot and they toasted the deal.

Now, two years later, Betty was an invaluable member of The Brown’s team, and like family to Val, as was Jill. Grace had been right to trust Val.

As the end of March drew near, tensions continued to mount. Fear ran rife in Queensland, and most particularly in Townsville. The Japanese were advancing on Northern Australia through Malaya, the Dutch Indies and New Guinea, and Townsville had by now become the frontline hub for Australian and American forces. Troops continued to pour in, creating a garrison town, and over 7000 citizens had fled south. But many remained to confront whatever fate had in store for them. Including Grace Francis.

Grace had not once contemplated heading south, not while her husband still served with the Coastwatchers. When George returned – and she had firmly convinced herself he would – she would be waiting for him. George would come home to his wife and family.

She had briefly considered sending Tom to a school in Brisbane where he could stay with her sister and family. Christian Brothers, the school he attended in Townsville, was not one of those that had been closed, but situated as it was right on the coast, the Americans had fortified it with guns. Grace felt uncomfortable about her son being placed in such a vulnerable position.

Tom had strongly objected to both the idea and the reasoning behind it. ‘What do you mean vulnerable!’ he’d exclaimed as if she’d said something quite ludicrous. ‘When they start dropping bombs the whole of Townsville will be vulnerable.’

Grace had felt a little foolish for having made the suggestion, and, as always, Tom had gone on to present a very persuasive argument.

‘Besides, I’m serving a purpose here, Mum,’ he’d insisted. ‘I’m a runner for the Yanks, I told you that, remember?’

‘Yes, dear, I remember.’

Tom was very proud of the purpose he served, which had started out quite innocently. In his inimitable style, he’d befriended a group of American soldiers for whom he’d run the odd errand, always receiving a generous gift in return, some article or food item unavailable to local citizens. He would dodge through the dense military traffic on his bicycle, delivering a message here and there, or fetching something, and he’d proved so efficient they’d now claimed him an official ‘runner’. The term may have been applied to humour the youngster, but he was undoubtedly useful, for while many bicycles throughout Townsville had been requisitioned by the military, Tom had been allowed to keep his.