‘Bye, girls,’ said Patrick. ‘And don’t you be worrying about no war. Daniel and I will look out for you.’

‘Too right we will,’ Daniel added with a wink, and Queenie felt herself blush again.

Aunt Edna was the only other relation Queenie and Viv had that they knew of. A big lady with an even bigger singing voice, Aunt Edna had short dark curly hair and was the life and soul of any party. She loved to sing and could play the piano without even looking at the keys.

At thirty-five, Aunt Edna was four years older than their mum. She’d had her heart broken by a cheating fiancé in her younger years and had been single ever since. She treated Queenie and Vivian more like daughters than nieces.

Edna put an arm around both girls and held them close to her ample bosoms. ‘I brought you some sweeties. Where’s your mum and dad? I take it you’ve heard the news?’

Molly Wade arrived home at that very minute and joined in the hug. ‘It’ll be OK. We’ll all be OK. Where’s your father?’

‘Dunno, Mum. Will we have to go to school tomorrow?’ asked Queenie.

‘I don’t know yet, love. It’s all been such a shock; I can’t think straight.’

‘Will Hitler bomb us, Mum? Derek Lewis says we’re all doomed,’ said Viv.

‘Take no notice of Derek Lewis,’ replied Aunt Edna. ‘His mother talks rubbish an’ all.’

Molly was worried, extremely worried. The war was obviously her main concern, but Eric was another. He’d rolled home drunk last night, for the first time in years. The girls were in bed and thankfully hadn’t witnessed it, but Molly’s guess was he was down the pub again now and she couldn’t go back to those dark days. She’d given Eric an ultimatum when Vivvy was three months old. He either gave up the booze or she was leaving him and she and the girls were moving in with her sister.

The ultimatum had thankfully worked and ever since Eric had been a good, kind husband and father. Eric had endured a tough upbringing. After his father got killed in battle, his mother had gone on the game to make ends meet. She’d been found strangled in an alleyway when Eric was nineteen years old, a subject he found difficult to talk about even now.

‘Eat your sweets, girls. I got you some cola bottles and Parma violets,’ urged Aunt Edna.

When the girls went out into the back yard with their sweets, Edna made her sister a cup of tea. ‘Awful news, ain’t it, lovey? But we must try and be bright in front of the kids. I’m surprised Eric isn’t ’ere. Did he say where he was going?’

Molly’s eyes welled up. ‘He came home drunk last night. Started on me like the old days. Thank God it was late and the kids were fast asleep.’

‘You gotta nip that in the bud, Moll,’ Edna advised, her face full of concern. Eric Wade was a decent enough man until he had a drink inside him. Alcohol did not agree with Eric one little bit. It turned him into a monster.