‘I tell you, war is coming, and I reckon it will be sooner rather than later,’ George solemnly informed Cissie and Sunday as they all sat together in the little kitchen of Cissie’s cottage one windy morning in March. ‘Neville Chamberlain has informed the House of Commons today that if any action threatened Polish independence and the Poles felt it vital to resist, Britain and France would go to their aid.’

Cissie paled. The newspapers had been full of doom and gloom for weeks and things seemed to be going from bad to worse with every day that passed. On 15 March, Hitler had made a triumphal entry into Prague and slept at Hradcany Castle. On the 23 March he had forced Lithuania to surrender Memel, under threat of air attack, and now he was demanding Danzig from Poland.

‘They’re sayin’ that German troops are already movin’ towards the Polish border so I can’t see how we can avoid becoming involved now,’ George ended glumly.

‘But what could this mean for us?’ Cissie asked fearfully. She could still remember the last war all too clearly.

George sighed. ‘It’s hard to say at present. We’ll just have to wait and see what develops.’

Sunday and Cissie exchanged a concerned glance and fell silent, each of them lost in their memories.

On the 23 August, the signing of the Nazi–Soviet non-aggression pact shocked British leaders who reaffirmed their pledge with France to defend Poland, and by the end of the month another war seemed inevitable. The forces were mobilised in readiness, reserves were called up and children began to be evacuated from the major cities. On 1 September German aircraft and troops attacked Poland and just two days later everyone’s worst fears were realised when Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain declared that England was now at war with Germany. The country fell silent as families huddled around their wireless sets to hear the grim news and almost immediately the air raid sirens began to wail across London, sending people scurrying to the shelters. Thankfully this time it was a false alarm, but it was a fearful indication of the destruction which might yet come.

‘I almost feel glad that I never had a son,’ Sunday confided. ‘I’d be worried sick about him going off to fight if I had.’

‘I know exactly what you mean,’ Cissie agreed glumly, thinking of her own sons. ‘I think John is afraid Giles may decide to sign up too but all we can do now is wait and see what happens over the next few weeks.’

Later that afternoon, John popped into the lodge to discuss the dreadful news. ‘I think I’ll offer to have a couple of evacuees here,’ he told Sunday. ‘I’m far too old to go and fight but at least if I do that I’ll feel as if I’m doing my bit.’