When Vera Lynn came on, Mama stopped humming, stopped scraping and sat down in one of the chairs, now randomly placed in the middle of the room and covered in bits of wallpaper.

‘We’ll meet again…’ Vera Lynn sang.

‘Don’t know where, don’t know when,’ Mama sang along with her. Suddenly, her voice cracked and her shoulders started shaking as she dropped her head.

I stopped scraping and went over to her. Her eyes were red, lines of tears carving wet trails through the wallpaper dust on her cheeks.

Seeing her upset made me want to cry, too, and the joy of my day dissolved at her tears, and at the cause of them – the fact that Papa wasn’t here. More than anything, I wanted to sob my heart out, wail like a child, have her comfort me and tell me everything was going to be all right.

And then I remembered what Papa had said to me. I found it harder and harder to fully remember his face now, but his words from the dark day when they took him away had never left me.

You are the man of the house now. You look after your mother. You hear me? You promise me?

I put my wire brush on the floor and crouched down in front of Mama, reaching out to lift her chin.

‘Mama,’ I said. She looked at me through damp, dark eyes. ‘We will see Papa again. I promise you.’

‘I just miss him so much,’ she said. ‘I can’t bear it. Never knowing where he is, what has become of him. I try not to think the worst but—’

‘No.’ I stopped her. ‘We must never think like that. One day Papa will walk into this place and he’ll say, “What on earth is that crooked paper you have all over the walls?” and then you will dance together in this very kitchen.’

Mama laughed softly. ‘My darling boy, I hope and pray you are right.’

I wiped her cheek with my thumb. ‘I am, Mama. I promise you.’

She clutched my hand. ‘You are such a good boy,’ she said. Then she shook her head. ‘No. You are such a good man. My wonderful young man. The best thing in my life.’

I reached out to put my arms around her waist. She leaned her head against me and stroked my hair.

And behind us, Vera Lynn sang out.

‘Keep smiling through, just like you always do… I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.’

ELSA

I’m riding in some sort of train carriage. I know I’ve been here before but I can’t remember when. I’m packed in with so many people that I can barely breathe. It all feels familiar. So familiar. But then the carriage rises from its tracks, climbing up into the air, and the doors open and we look out over the city.