‘We’ve been reading about the programme for evacuation,’ Pa said, putting his hands down flat on the table.

‘Evacuation?’ I looked from him to Mutti.

Mags wasn’t looking at either of them; her eyes were fixed on the window, and the cold, grey, drizzly world outside our cosy kitchen.

‘Yes,’ Mutti said. ‘Children are being sent away from their homes to different parts of the country – to places that are safer.’

‘We know all about it,’ I said. ‘Mrs Baron told us at school. We’ve even got two new children from London in our class. They came a couple of months ago.’

‘That’s right, Pet,’ Pa said. ‘Right now, the government say that the Kent coast is considered to be safe. But it’s possible that this area too may need to be evacuated in time, and we wanted to discuss it with you first. The government have already evacuated children from London and other big cities . . .’

‘But this isn’t exactly a big city, is it?’ Mags interrupted, her eyes still fixed on the window.

‘Let me finish, please, Magda,’ Pa said calmly. ‘And they will need to evacuate children from anywhere that becomes a target for attack. If things change, we need to know that the two of you can be moved quickly to a safe place inland.’

Inland. Even the word made me feel panicky and claustrophobic. It’s a feeling that might be difficult for you to understand, unless, like me, you’ve grown up by the sea. I can’t bear the thought of being boxed in by buildings, shut away from our enormous skies and the clean salt-washed air and all the colours of the sea.

‘If the princesses are staying put, I’m sure it will be fine for us to stay too,’ Mags said airily. We had heard something on the wireless about the royal family deciding to keep Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret at home rather than send them away to Scotland or Canada. Trust Mags to remember that.

‘Magda,’ Pa said in one of his strictest voices. ‘Firstly – though this may be hard for you to believe – you are not actually a princess. Secondly, you haven’t even thought about it properly yet. Don’t fly off the handle so quickly. This could be a chance for you to visit a beautiful part of the country, like Devon or Cornwall – lots of evacuees are going there – down in the southwest.’ He took a pencil from his top pocket and sketched out a rough map of the country on the front cover of yesterday’s newspaper. I watched the shape growing on the page, corralling all those words about the war within its familiar borders.