Oh, Papa. Anna blinked back the tears that blurred her eyes. She had to be strong, for everyone’s sake. She had to keep the bakery going, so that Papa and Edward would have a place to come back to when they both returned home. And then they could all be together again.

She had taken the last batch of loaves from the oven when she remembered the tea her mother had promised her two hours earlier. Anna had been too busy to think about it, but now her throat was parched from breathing in the dreadful grey-brown stuff that was more dust than flour. Surely the kettle should have boiled by now?

She took off her apron and went down the hall to the small scullery that served as the family’s kitchen.

‘What is it they say about a watched pot?’ she started to say. But the scullery was empty. The kettle was on the stove, but when Anna put her hand on it, it was stone cold.

She went next door to the sitting room. There was her mother, sitting on the couch fast sleep, her chin on her chest.

Anna smiled. Poor Mother, she must be exhausted to drop off like that. She didn’t even stir when Anna fetched a shawl from her bedroom and draped it over her to keep her warm.

As an afterthought, Anna sat down on the couch beside her. Almost immediately the wave of weariness she had been fighting overcame her. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to close her eyes for a couple of minutes, she thought, nestling against her mother and pulling the shawl up over her shoulder.

She was woken by the sound of a whistling kettle. Anna sat bolt upright, startled into wakefulness.

‘Morning, Miss Anna.’

Ida Church stood in the doorway, taking off her coat. She had been a customer at the shop for years, but since Liesel had left, she had been helping behind the counter. She had lost her husband at the Somme and struggled to survive on her widow’s allowance, so the money came in useful.

Anna blinked in confusion at the sight of her. What was she doing there in the middle of the night?

Then her tired brain registered the crack of pale light creeping through the drawn curtains. ‘What time is it?’

‘Nearly six. Your mother’s in the kitchen, making tea.’ Ida went to the window and pulled the curtains back. ‘And the rain’s stopped at last, which is a blessing. I was beginning to think we might need the Ark!’

But Anna was scarcely listening. She was already on her feet, heading for the kitchen, hastily gathering up her shoes and coat.

Her mother appeared in the scullery doorway. ‘Don’t you want a cup of tea?’

‘I can’t.’ Anna hopped on one leg, pulling on her shoe. ‘I’m late as it is. I’m due on duty in an hour. If the Home Sister sees my bed hasn’t been slept in she’ll have my guts for garters.’ And poor Grace’s, too, she thought.