His time spent in the trenches of France has left his spirit sapped and his faith in those in control of the armies shattered. He saw nothing there in that struggle, in that slaughter, to convince him that more of the same will bring peace. Now, home on a rare few weeks of leave, awaiting news of his next posting, he has welcomed the activity of helping his father at the steel yard.

Anything rather than remain idle. For without purpose to occupy myself, to occupy my thoughts …

It had been easier, he found, to bear the suffocating pain of losing Lilith while he was away. Away from anything that might remind him of her or of what might have been. But now, back in England, watching the brave young women at their hazardous work, he cannot help but think of Lilith. And thinking of her, conjuring her face in his mind’s eye, still causes his heart to constrict. Still causes his breath to catch. He has become aware, over the years, that he cherishes this pain now. It is as if the heartache is all he has left of her, and he is unwilling to let it go.

He regards the scene below him with an artist’s eye and contemplates picking up his sketchbook. After leaving London he had not the heart to paint, but in France he found fresh inspiration. He chose not to depict the carnage and horror but focused instead on the courage of the young men he served with, attempting to capture them in his battered notebook. In the determined concentration of the female workforce now employed at Cardale’s, he sees an equal bravery.

Bram notices one of the women pause in her task. She looks up, not at him but toward the high windows that give only a view of the clouds. He sees her cock her head, listening. He, too, listens. At first he can hear nothing above the hammering and clanking on the factory floor, but then, faintly yet clearly, he makes out an altogether more chilling noise. His eyes meet the girl’s at the moment they both recognize the throaty whir of the zeppelin. The women exchange glances. One reaches over to pat the trembling hand of another. Not one of them starts for the door. In the distance bombs can be heard bursting upon houses and factories with fatal inaccuracy. Should one find its target here the resulting explosion would wipe the buildings and all inside them from the earth, leaving no trace. Every worker knows it, but still they stay. Still they press on with their given part of the war. The air-raid siren has not sounded, suggesting the threat is still some way off. Bram has witnessed the calm courage of these women before and knows they will not desert their posts unless absolutely necessary.