‘You should go home now,’ Marius said as he stepped out and joined her.

‘It’s as dangerous to go back as it is to go forward. I could walk into the arms of Sergeant Grimm. I’ll stay another day,’ she said.

That day did not take them far. When the army needed the road the refugees had to pull on to the dusty verge and let the soldiers march past followed by their supply lorries and tanks and guns. Now the Australians were singing happier songs. They knew they were winning and driving forward.

‘We soldiers of Australia

Rejoice in being free,

And not to fetter others

Do we go o’er the sea.

Old England gave us freedom,

And when she makes a start

To see that others get it,

We’re there to take our part.’

Then there was their song ‘Waltzing Matilda’ with the words changed. Hard men with skins like old leather sang like schoolboys and laughed as they marched and sang about the German king, the Kaiser...

‘Fighting the Kaiser, fighting the Kaiser,

Who’ll come a-fighting the Kaiser with me?

And we’ll drink all his beer,

And eat up all his sausages,

Who’ll come a fighting the Kaiser with me?’

Aimee was never sure when it would be safe to leave the convoy. So she stayed. ‘I’ll go as far as Hirson and meet up with a White Lady there,’ she told Marius. The days rolled slowly by.

The donkey cart rocked over the hills that were as fat as sheep, just a few kilometres every day. At night Madame Clare tried to find a tavern to stay in. Aimee and Marius squeezed into the crowded cart and slept under the canvas. On fine evenings they slept under the stars.

News spread among the travellers about the war. Every day that September it seemed the British and Australians were moving ahead faster and further than the refugees could.

Each day the guns seemed more distant. The autumn hills less damaged by the battles. The air less scented by the gas. The nights less infested by rats. The villages less crushed by shells.

Madame Clare said she was poor but she used the chest as a driving seat and sat on it to guide the donkey. No one could look inside. She always seemed to have enough money for the best food when they came to a farm or village. Aimee grew fond of the donkey, Daisy, and made sure she was well fed though Madame Clare grumbled about the cost.

Marius slowly grew back to full strength and was useful in heaving the cart out of muddy patches when the hard black rains fell on the rutted roads.

One day they came across a field filled with rough huts and British officers with bright brass buttons on their tunics and hats. ‘A new command post,’ Marius said.