‘All right, Mr Hudson? Can I help you with that?’ She took the matchbox from him and lit another one, shielding it from the rain with her hand as she held it steady. Mr Hudson took a long drag on it until the tip glowed. Then he took a step back, staggering slightly to regain his balance.

‘Ta, love.’ He exhaled slowly and squinted at her through the stream of smoke. ‘What you doing out on a filthy night like this?’

‘I’ve come to see my mother, Mr Hudson.’

‘At this hour? Bit late to go visiting, ain’t it?’

Anna said nothing. The neighbours knew enough about their business, without her telling them any more.

Finally, Mr Hudson said, ‘I’ll walk with you, shall I? Make sure you’re all right.’

‘If you like.’ They started down Chambord Street, Mr Hudson weaving unsteadily beside her. After he’d veered off the kerb and into the gutter twice, Anna took his arm.

‘How’s your dad, then?’ Mr Hudson asked as they walked. ‘Seen him lately?’

‘I visited him at the internment camp last month. He seemed very well.’

Mr Hudson shook his head. ‘Such a bad business. You’d think they would have let him out by now, wouldn’t you? How long has it been?’

‘Three years.’ You should know, Anna thought. You were there when they came to take him away.

‘That long, is it? Terrible shame, I call it.’ Mr Hudson took another drag on his cigarette. The rain dripped steadily off the brim of his hat, splashing on the shoulders of his overcoat. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’ve no love for the Germans, any more than the next man. But your father … well, you only have to look at him to know he’s a good man. One of the best.’ He shook his head, spattering raindrops all around. ‘Someone should do something about it.’

Like you did? Anna thought bitterly. She would never forget how Mr Hudson and their other neighbours had stood by and watched her father being marched off to the internment camp with the other German-born men who were living locally. None of them had spoken up for him, and no one had lifted a finger to help Anna and her family afterwards, either.

In fact, their old friends and neighbours had all turned their backs on the Becks. They had boycotted the bakery, taken their business elsewhere, watched and done nothing when marauders smashed their windows and terrorised them.

Things had changed since then, however. Somehow over the years, the war had exhausted them all so much that they’d had no choice but to mellow towards each other. Customers began returning to the bakery, and the neighbours no longer turned their backs on Anna and her family.

Papa had said she mustn’t bear a grudge, so she tried her best not to say anything. But even though they were cordial with each other now, Anna knew she would never forgive them for what they had done.