Frank laughed when he understood how they’d achieved that delicate balance. ‘It’s hard to remember that Tommy’s almost a young man now,’ he said fondly.

‘You haven’t seen him on his bike, have you? Honestly, it’s a wonder he hasn’t fallen off yet, the speed he goes around corners,’ she replied – but whatever she was going to say next was lost as a powerful blast hit them, without the slightest hint of any warning. It was only afterwards that the hideous noise of the V2 bomb’s descent could be heard – but by then the walls of neighbouring buildings had crumbled, a vast hole had opened in the narrow street, and Kitty and Frank were submerged in a pile of bricks and rubble.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

When Kitty came to, all she could see was darkness, with a few smudges of weak light way off to one side, but she couldn’t turn her head to see where they were coming from. She was unable to move much at all, as she seemed to be wedged in tight by sharp, heavy objects on both sides. The smell was suffocating – damp stone, dry dust, and a troublingly earthy scent that she couldn’t quite place but didn’t want to think about too carefully. Cautiously she tried to move her fingers and toes. The toes were all right and so were the fingers on her right hand, but when she tried to move those on her left, pain shot through her all the way to her shoulder, making her gasp. She strained to remember where she was. Gradually it came back to her – the big meeting, the smaller impromptu one, walking along with Frank … Frank. Where was he?

She tried to call but nothing came out. Her throat was painful and dry. How long had she been trapped here? She coughed a little and had another go. ‘Frank,’ she managed to half-whisper. Then, more strongly, ‘Frank! Are you there? Are you all right?’

There was no reply. Slowly it came to her that there were faint low moans coming from different directions, and she had no way of telling if any of them came from Frank. She wondered how many people had been caught in the blast. They had been walking between tall buildings; they must have been full of Londoners going about their daily business. Now they were all caught in the ruins of what had been a normal street, full of normal workers and families.