‘Don’t worry about me,’ Marc said. ‘I’ll survive on my own.’

Henderson shook his head resolutely. ‘Don’t be bloody daft, boy,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t dream of leaving you.’

A great klaxon blasted out on the dockside and a shout of All aboard went up. Henderson was in a full-on panic.

‘Paul, Rosie,’ he said, ‘this is your chance. Take your things and the documents and get on board. When you arrive in Britain, ask to speak to Miss Eileen McAfferty at the Home Office, sixty-four Kensington High Street. Tell her what’s happened and I promise she’ll look after you.’

There was a mix-up over whose stuff was in each bag as Henderson made sure that Rosie had enough French francs to buy her tickets and two pound notes for when she arrived in Britain. She quickly kissed Henderson on the forehead and raced towards the French officials, who stood up and waved the two children through.

‘Run, run,’ they urged.

The crew was ready to pull in the last gangplank as the Clarkes chased across the dockside. They made the ramp with a heavy bag in each arm and the last of the ship’s crew behind them.

Back in the terminal Henderson turned to Marc and smiled. ‘Hopefully we can find a room for the night, then we’ll go and see the consul in the morning.’

‘OK.’ Marc said, nodding. ‘I owe you.’

Henderson realised his companion was a touch blurry-eyed and he put an arm around the boy’s back.

‘Did you really think I’d abandon you after everything we’ve been through?’

EPILOGUE

Paul hated the sea. He’d crossed the English Channel many times, always with a green face poised over a sick bag and his father telling him that it was better out than in. The prospect of a far longer voyage from Bordeaux to Plymouth filled him with dread.

The ship was dilapidated and the corridors were blacked out to avoid detection by Germans at night. This meant the cabin stewards had to show passengers to their cabins by torchlight. As they walked, the prop shaft ran at full speed, making noise and vibration that was close to unbearable.

‘You’ve got a blackout curtain over your porthole,’ the steward said. ‘Once it gets dark, don’t open it – don’t even touch it. The tiniest chink of light is all the Boche need to spot us in the night. There’s U-boats 6 on the prowl, so we’ll be going flat out whenever the sea lets us, but that makes for a choppy ride. I recommend you stay in your cabin as much as you can. There’s a canteen up on the next deck, but there’s no food till morning. I’ll be down with tea and hot water in about an hour.’