This thought made Paul freeze as he stacked the last of the papers. The cemetery always made Paul cry. Then his dad would cry and stand around the grave for ages, even when it was freezing cold. It was always horrible and he rather liked the idea of never going back.

‘Rosie, we’re not leaving your mother behind,’ Mr Clarke said. ‘She’ll be up there watching over us the whole way.’

CHAPTER THREE

Marc sat in the orphanage kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of grubby shorts. Director Tomas had ordered him to keep absolutely still, with his head down and his palms flat against the long wooden table. His stomach rumbled as two young nuns baked bread in the wood-fired ovens, whilst a huge bowl of vegetable soup bubbled on the stove.

Marc knew he wouldn’t be allowed supper and smiled edgily when Sister Madeline placed a small plate with cheese, sausage and chopped vegetables in front of him.

‘Eat quickly,’ the nun whispered, aiming a glance towards the door. ‘The director will reprimand me if he catches us.’

Marc was grateful for the food and scoffed it down without chewing, then shoved the plate across the table.

While the young nun was willing to help, Marc’s fellow orphans had less sympathy. Boys halted in the kitchen doorway and poked out tongues, wagged fingers and whispered nastily about the beating he was going to get and how he wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week. Outside, in plain view of the kitchen window, younger boys enacted a pantomime of mock beatings, a hanging and even a firing squad until the older nun rapped on the glass and told them to leave Marc alone.

Marc didn’t really mind. Orphanage life was all he’d known and bullying seemed as natural as breathing. Teasing a kid who faced a beating and trying to make him cry was just one of many rituals the orphans had devised to torture each other. As one of the stronger lads, Marc had inflicted his share of suffering on the weaker kids, and had learned never to give an inch when older boys or the staff started on him.

But he was scared of the director. Jae Morel ending up in a slurry pit was a serious matter and the fact that it wasn’t entirely his fault counted for nothing. Director Tomas was going to give him the beating of his life; the kind he usually reserved for boys who stole from the village shop or ran away.

While fear pricked Marc’s every thought it was falling out with Jae that hurt deep down. Their relationship had amounted to little, but her friendship had made Marc feel like something more than a shit-shovelling orphan for the first time in his life.