‘I’d like that too,’ she sighed. ‘But Liesel’s coming to visit, and I’d like to spend Christmas Day with her.’

‘And what about spending Christmas Day with me?’

Anna saw his sulky expression and her heart sank.

‘Perhaps I could come in and see you, just for an hour.’

‘No, it’s all right. You spend the day with your sister.’

‘Are you sure? Liesel wouldn’t mind …’

He shook his head. ‘No, I’m sure I’ll have a delightful day. Think of me, won’t you? Stuck in here among this lot while you’re enjoying Christmas.’ Then he smiled and said, ‘I’m joking, love. Believe me, I’d much rather be spending the day here than in the trenches like I did last year!’

But Anna still felt guilty as she trudged home that night. She had been so looking forward to seeing Liesel again; now Edward’s comments had dampened her excitement.

It was the middle of the afternoon but already dark. Streetlamps cast dim pools of light on the frozen grey streets of Bethnal Green. In Columbia Road, the costermongers were already packing up their wares, huddled inside layers of coats and shawls, stamping their feet on the frosty ground to keep them warm.

There was a group of carol singers clustered outside Wheeler’s café on the corner of Chambord Street, their plaintive song filling the cold night air.

‘Silent Night, Holy Night …’

Hot tears stung Anna’s eyes. How often had she listened to her father singing that same song in his native German as he worked in the bakery kitchen?

‘Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht …’ His light tenor voice would fill the kitchen, and Anna, her mother and Edward would find themselves joining in.

I hope you’re singing again now, Papa, she thought, dashing a tear from her cheek.

She was used to seeing a queue outside the bakery on Christmas Eve, but there was no one outside the shop as Anna approached. She paused for a moment to look in the window. Her father always liked to turn the bakery window into a festive wonderland of lebkuchen, stollen and fanciful sugarwork creations at Christmas, but today the window was rather bare, with nothing more than a few dull-looking loaves on display.

She found Mrs Church in the kitchen, smoking and talking to Charlie.

‘Miss Anna! We weren’t expecting you till teatime.’ She jumped and quickly stubbed out her cigarette.

‘Sister let me go home early.’ Anna looked at Charlie. He seemed unconcerned by her arrival. He lounged in the open back doorway, puffing on a cigarette of his own and blowing leisurely smoke rings out into the yard.

‘We were just taking a well-earned break. Poor Charlie’s been rushed off his feet all morning, haven’t you?’

Charlie shrugged, said nothing.

‘There don’t seem to be many customers at the moment,’ Anna said. ‘They used to be queuing halfway down Chambord Street before Christmas.’

‘The only queue you’ll see now is down the soup kitchen,’ Charlie spoke up at last.