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the bloody great nail that it was hanging on out there! Why had they always called it the ‘bath tin’, and not the tin bath? he wondered, for the first time. I remember the carry-on I had trying to drag it through the scullery into the living room, not that it was heavy, but I was only a bairn, and when I’d got it to the right position I’d just plonk it down there in front of the roaring fire, and me and Mam used to have a hell of a time filling the thing. Idon’t know how we lifted those heavy boiling pans off the fire. How on earth had Mam managed on her own all this time? he wondered.
    ‘Hey, lad! When yer’ve finished yer day-dreamin’ give us a hand here, will yer?’
    ‘Sorry, Da, I keep doing that. My mind wanders,’ Tom apologized, taking the huge bar of carbolic soap and rough flannel from Jack.
    ‘It’s all right, lad, it’ll take time. We know that,’ Jack answered.
    Tom lathered the soap on the flannel and started to wash his dad’s back with vigour. A pained shout brought him to a sudden halt.
    ‘Ay, steady on, lad. You’ll scrub me away if yer not careful!’
    Tom had been so overcome by being at home with his mam and da at last, that in an effort to quell the tears he’d scrubbed too vigorously. His da’s back was red.
    Hannah pushed her way through once more, this time with an armful of crockery she’d collected from the sideboard under the window. As she passed, she squeezed Tom’s arm to reassure him.
    Tom was about to apologize to his da when Jack, drying himself, said, ‘Come on, son, I think we’re in need of a stiff drink while yer mam gets the dinner out. There’s a drop of whisky in the sideboard, but don’t tell anybody, mind!’ He winked. ‘Else they’ll all be round expectin’ their glasses ter be filled up!
    Tom poured out two measures of whisky, and a sweetsherry. He’d found half a bottle at the back of the cupboard. Jack hadn’t mentioned that!
    Seeing Tom hand the measure of sherry to Hannah, Jack grinned. ‘Nobody knew about that, either, lad!’ Then, glancing at his wife with an affectionate glint in his eye, he teased her, ‘And don’t you get yerself drunk before yer’ve seen ter our dinner, mind!’
    Hannah answered indignantly, ‘And when’ve you ever seen me the worse fer wear, Jack Dawson?’
    ‘Never,’ came the reply. ‘But there’s always a first time, just you remember that, Hannah Dawson!’
    At that, she glanced towards Tom and sighed. ‘Nowt changes, does it, lad?’
    He reflected for a moment before answering, ‘No, Mam, nowt changes.’ And as he lifted the bucket to chuck more coal on the fire he added under his breath, ‘Thank God!’
    But whether he liked it or not, change was on its way.

Chapter 2
Marck, Northern France
Sunday, 2 December, 1945
    ‘But, Maman! You can’t send me to England, I don’t even speak the language!’ Madeleine stared at her mother in disbelief. It pained her to see that once-proud face looking so weary. She knew, too, that her whole family were equally devastated by what she’d done. The very thought of it made her stomach churn.
    There was a moment or two of uncomfortable silence between the two of them, and then Madeleine asked, ‘What do you think it will be like for me in England, when the furthest I’ve ever been from home is visiting my sisters in Boulogne, hardly an hour’s train journey away? England might as well be on another planet!’ She pleaded in vain. Her mother obviously had no idea just how distant it was.
    Maman sighed and got up from the kitchen table, while Madeleine remained seated, consumed by a strange mixture of shame and fear; but more than that,she felt immense sadness because she’d let her mother down so badly.
    Madeleine had had a problem looking Maman in the face lately. The hurt in her eyes had been almost more than she could bear. Now, when she slowly raised her head and glanced at her mother, she saw she was busying herself around the kitchen, opening the