The metal door of the tiny cabin squealed and Paul was knocked back by the smell of cigarettes. The beds were filthy, the bin overflowing and the sliding door leading to a toilet and washbasin hung off its runners.

‘Sorry about the state of the cabin, but we’ve been running back and forth for two weeks without time for the cleaners to come aboard.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Rosie said, smiling bravely as the steward flicked a switch to turn on a tiny light bulb. ‘It’s a ride home and that’s all that matters.’

Paul sat on the lower bunk as the door clanged shut and thought about England. While Rosie called it home, he could only remember living in Paris. The swaying was already making him feel sick and he knew it would get worse once they reached open sea.

‘I might go up on deck and get some air,’ he said.

Rosie shook her head. ‘You heard the steward. You can’t go walking up on deck when there’s no light.’

‘Twenty-three hours, turning my guts out,’ Paul moaned. Then he looked thoughtful. ‘That Marc kid seemed pretty nice. I hope Henderson gets him a passport.’

‘I’m sure he will,’ Rosie said. ‘He’s well connected.’

‘And the way you two were chattering in the back of the truck,’ Paul teased. ‘You’re such a flirt.’

‘Give over,’ Rosie tutted. ‘I was just being nice to him.’

‘If I hadn’t been there you’d have been kissing or something.’

Rosie wagged her finger in her brother’s face. ‘Don’t think you can wind me up just because you’re queasy,’ she said. ‘I’ll still smack you one.’

Suddenly there was a booming sound and the ship rose up as if it had been picked out of the water. Then, just as sharply, the invisible hand let go.

‘What was that?’ Paul gulped, as all the lights flickered.

A second bang tilted the boat forwards and this time there was an ear-splitting explosion, magnified by the metal walls and decks all around. The lights went out for good and a siren sounded in the corridor as a crackly announcement broke over the tannoy:

‘All passengers collect your life jackets and move on to the deck. I repeat, all passengers collect your life jackets and move on to the deck.’

‘Where are they?’ Rosie shouted anxiously.

Paul remembered the Titanic and how there hadn’t been enough safety equipment, but Rosie found the life jackets under the bed and quickly pulled the stiff yellow bib over her head. Outside, the steward was banging on the cabin doors shouting, ‘All out, all out. Everyone on deck!’

Rosie grabbed the case containing the documents and stepped into the hallway, which was suddenly crammed with passengers queuing to climb the narrow staircase up to the main deck.

‘What’s happened?’ Rosie asked desperately.

‘Air raid,’ someone shouted. ‘Didn’t you hear the planes?’