The air raid warden stared after the man who had taken off in such a hurry. If only he’d given him the chance, he’d have been able to tell him that the young girl had been brought back to the shelter and was currently in the school hall with everyone else who had been made homeless last night. He touched his bandages. If it hadn’t been for that wretched girl he wouldn’t have a lump the size of an egg on the side of his head. He wondered whether the man would find his daughter then reassured himself with the thought that he was probably running to the school hall to see if she was there. After all, it was common knowledge that those made homeless headed for the nearest public building that was left standing. Telling himself that this was more than likely what the other man had done, he got back to the business of tidying out the shelter.

After ten relentless nights of bombing the Luftwaffe turned its attention to the Russians, but the aftermath had taken its toll. Those who had been down shelters when their houses had been bombed now found themselves homeless, and others were without jobs if their place of work had been hit, but with these miseries came a glimmer of hope. Hollybank Farm had opened its doors to anyone in need of a bed or a job. Even if they weren’t enlisted in the land army, Helen and Arthur had reasoned that it was just as helpful for them to work for room and board.

Roz could sense that Joyce had been dubious at first, believing that they would be more of a hindrance than a help, but after seeing the worn out faces of those who came seeking sanctuary, she had soon changed her mind.

‘They’re like lost souls,’ she had said to Roz as yet another family turned up, adding ‘poor little wretches’, as two children no more than six years old stood barefoot before her, their clothes tatty and their eyes white against their dirt-smeared faces.

They had rehoused the carts and heavier machinery in the Dutch barn, then used the stone barn as temporary accommodation. People had donated beds where they could, but when they fell short they had made makeshift mattresses out of straw, something which the children found to be a great adventure. It had taken a while to get everyone equipped with wellingtons and suitable clothing, but once they had, everyone who was able was put to work on the farm, whilst those who were too old had been set the task of darning clothes and keeping an eye on children too young to work.

Bernie had proved to be an absolute marvel. Every day after finishing his rounds, he would come back, unload the empty churns then go straight back to the city and ask anyone who needed a bed for the night to jump on board. Roz couldn’t help but be impressed by his generosity when it came to those who had nothing.