The following morning Lily stared out of her window at the trees and fields beyond Kirkby Steepleton as the dawn light crested the distant hills. Spiders had spun their webs outside her bedroom window. Beads of moisture hung from the silken threads and glistened in the sunlight, while in the hedgerows harvest mice were weaving their nests. The tiny creatures of the land were busy on this autumn morning.

For Lily another day of teaching stretched out before her, but the man she worked alongside was now different in her eyes. He was clearly a brave man. However, it was Tom who was beginning to fill her thoughts. Last night when they parted he had asked if she would like to go to the cinema.

She had smiled and said simply, ‘Perhaps.’

Chapter Five

Goodbye Mr Hitler

It was Friday, 7 November and a reluctant light spread across the land. As Lily stared from the window of William Featherstone’s bus a cloak of mist shrouded the fields beyond the hedgerows. A tractor was in Twenty Acre Field, ploughing neat furrows and making a pattern of chocolate-brown lines over which cawing birds swooped noisily.

As the bus entered Ragley village liquid rainbows reflected in the oily rainwater on the forecourt of Victor Pratt’s garage. On this iron-grey morning Lily had private thoughts and almost by habit she opened her handbag and took out a familiar creased black-and-white photograph. Finally she gave a sigh of contentment. There were still bright promises on a distant horizon.

Lily stepped down from the bus on to the pavement and looked up as a parliament of rooks stared down from the high elms behind the village hall. Suddenly, as one, they flew off up the Morton road towards the tower of St Mary’s Church and Lily stared after them. Then she turned up her collar and strode purposefully towards school.

It was the day before the village bonfire and there was eager anticipation for this annual event. A crowd of children had gathered in front of the window of the General Stores. On the shop door was a large notice:

The Village Hall Committee

RAGLEY VILLAGE BONFIRE

Saturday 8th November 1952

7.00 p.m. The Old Field

Bring your own fireworks.

Hot Soup & Tea (courtesy of Doris Clutterbuck)

In the window, large boxes of fireworks were on display under a sign that read ‘Light up the sky with Standard Fireworks’, along with a vast collection of loose fireworks on the shelf below.

‘Cor, look at ’em, Malc,’ said Dave Robinson. ‘Catherine wheels, rockets, Roman candles, snow fountains, jumping jacks … an’ bangers!’

‘An’ sparklers,’ contributed Malcolm.

‘F’little uns,’ said Dave disdainfully, ‘an’ girls,’ he added for good measure.

Malcolm nodded. He understood that, as in life, there was a pecking order to fireworks.

‘Y’reight there, Dave.’