‘I’m sure me an’ Edith can manage that so long as you don’t want nothin’ too fancy,’ Cissie piped up. ‘But why don’t we plan it for when the weather is a bit better? It’s early in March already so why don’t we aim to have the party in May? People can spill out into the gardens then like they used to. In fact, I reckon George said only the other day that he’d come across the lanterns we used to hang in the trees in the back o’ the barn somewhere. We could use ’em again providin’ the mice ain’t been at ’em.’

‘I suppose that does make sense,’ Sunday admitted. ‘And it will give us all something to look forward to.’ She broke off then to pass Skippy a piece of meat beneath the table as they continued to make plans for the party. Sunday looked around the table with satisfaction; she’d been right to suggest it, the thought of the party had already lifted their spirits, and now she couldn’t wait for the warm weather to arrive.

As March gave way to April it really appeared that the end of the war was in sight, and then on the thirtieth word reached them that Adolf Hitler had killed himself rather than admit defeat, and the people of Britain cheered. He had shot himself and died with his lover, Eva Braun, whom he had married the day before, but no one had a shred of sympathy for him. He had been an evil man and was responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths so no one would mourn him.

Shocked soldiers were liberating the concentration camps and the full horror of what had taken place there was being revealed. But for many of the people who had been held there, rescue had come too late. In Belsen alone British soldiers had found 40,000 prisoners, many of them beyond help, suffering from starvation and many terrible diseases. Lying beside the survivors were piles of naked, rotting corpses with the little children who were still strong enough to stand playing beside them. It was a horrific testament to the cruelty and callousness of the SS guards. Almost all of the living were grossly emaciated, stick-like figures, their skin pulled so tight to their skulls that they were hardly recognisable as human beings and their rescuers openly wept at the sight of them.

They were shipped to makeshift hospitals but despite the doctors’ and nurses’ best efforts, hundreds of the ex-prisoners were still dying every day.

‘Livvy and John are beside themselves with worry,’ Sunday confided to Cissie. ‘They still don’t know if Giles has survived.’

‘He’ll survive,’ Cissie said confidently. ‘He has to cos I think it would kill his grandad if he didn’t.’