Constable Relf and Sergeant Burns exchanged another look, then the policewoman glanced down at the papers in front of her. “I suggest that I take your statement and then you contact the National Council for the Unmarried Mother and Her Child. They may have resources and ways to help that I’m afraid we don’t.”

“So, what are you actually going to do?” Alice asked, growing frantic.

“As I said, I’ll take a statement and we’ll investigate.”

“But how long do you think it will be until—”

“Look, Alice, it’s frustrating for us too, but we’re having to enforce the blackout, help with evacuations and restore communications, all things we didn’t have to do before the war, and many of our staff are police pensioners and War Reserve officers.”

Alice could see what she said was true, and that she was genuinely trying to help, but it wasn’t enough.

“What about the father, is he going to help?” Constable Relf asked.

She’d decided not to name him, but her disappointment now threatened her resolve. Could he be any help? She reminded herself of how little he’d cared about her. “Come on, Alice, don’t be a bore,” he’d said, temper flaring when she’d refused to go out with him the last time he’d asked. “I don’t want to force you to . . .” His eyes had blazed with desire, a look that she’d once been attracted to. That day she’d felt scared and had stood her ground, and he’d eventually left her alone. “Fine, there are plenty more fish in the sea,” he’d said, and laughed.

“I . . . don’t know. He’s not in the country anymore . . .”

“Is he serving?” Sergeant Burns asked.

“Yes.”

“I see,” she said, looking searchingly at Alice.

Alice thought of Rupert’s reputation, of his society links and his large group of friends, and then she thought of her own and how her situation would look to an outsider. She didn’t name him.

It was lunchtime when Alice left the station and made her way to Primrose Hill. As she traversed the wasteland between Oppidans Road and King Henry’s Road, staircases disappeared into open ground, doors lay horizontal, shattered walls exposed musty cellars, and she realized this was a real battlefront. There was a lingering metallic smell in the air, but in among the chaos a group of children played on precarious-looking rubble, making a game of throwing rocks into the ornamental pond of a former grand garden. Alice thought about warning them off, shouting to them to be careful, but she knew it wasn’t her place. Can’t they see how dangerous it is, how fragile everything has become?