‘Yes, I think so.’

‘Ah thought teachers knew ev’rythin’, Miss.’

Lily smiled. ‘No, not everything,’ but at that moment her mind was elsewhere.

‘Well, fancy that,’ said Tom. ‘Hitler on our bonfire.’

‘Everything changes,’ said Florence darkly.

There was a silence, broken only by the crackle of flames and the whoosh of a rocket.

‘Except memories,’ said Lily with a sad smile.

Tom moved a little closer to her. ‘So it’s goodbye Mr Hitler.’

Lily simply stared into the flames and thought of different times.

Chapter Six

Mr Pruett’s Poinsettia

It was Friday, 12 December and Lily looked out of her bedroom window in Kirkby Steepleton. The first snow of winter had fallen and the distant land was covered in a white shroud. It curved in graceful folds over the combed ridges of the ploughed fields and all sounds were muted. A bitter wind rattled the wooden casements and frost patterns covered the panes. She pulled her dressing gown a little tighter and shivered as cold draughts seeped into the house. An eventful day lay ahead with the rehearsal for the school Nativity play, a hair appointment after school and the small matter of her twenty-seventh birthday.

Lily smiled and thought of previous birthdays during the war when she had been in the Land Army. They had been riotous times alongside young women who had since gone their separate ways, some to become GI brides in America, others to return to the towns and cities of England. Lily sighed as she recalled the many months of hard toil interspersed with a few days of joy. However, her silent reverie was soon broken as an excited Freddie ran into her room clutching a parcel.

‘Happy birthday,’ he shouted and jumped on to the bed.

Florence was standing in the doorway wearing a thoughtful expression. ‘He couldn’t wait, poor thing. He’s been awake for the last hour waiting to come in.’

Lily gave Freddie a hug that seemed to last for ever and then she looked at her mother, whose face remained impassive and cold. No words were spoken, but a brief nod of acknowledgement passed between them. Florence walked in and sat beside Freddie on the bed. Lily ruffled his fair hair tenderly. ‘Go on,’ she said, ‘open it for me. I know you want to.’

Freddie needed no second invitation to untie the string and rip off the brown paper. It was a woollen cardigan. ‘Try it on, try it on!’ urged the excited boy.

Lily took off her dressing gown and slipped it on over her nightdress.

‘It’s lovely, Mother. Thank you so much.’ She stroked the soft wool and admired the pattern of flowers on the sleeves. ‘I didn’t see you making it. How on earth did you find the time?’