Billy

By Shirley Dawson

To 7 year old Billy Arnold the German air raids over London are just a part of life, until the day his school is bombed. Frightened and confused, he is wrenched from the only life he knows and evacuated to the relative safety of rural Northumberland.
Taken in by the kindly Wells family, Billy soon finds himself thrust into a totally different way of life amongst complete strangers.
However, Billy quickly acclimatises and encouraged by his friend Abe, an old farmhand, he discovers that he has a real talent for woodworking.
As the Second World War draws to its successful conclusion, London is barely recognisable as the country recovers from the aftermath of one of the largest massacres the country has ever faced. A chance encounter with an old friend leads Billy to make a life altering decision, one which will teach him the true meaning of loyalty and betrayal. But ultimately it is also one that will allow him to find true happiness and to fulfil his dreams.
This is really very good and engaging, with some strong characterisation. The book is reminiscent of “Goodnight Mr. Tom” with a tinge of Catherine Cookson thrown in for good measure. ~ Jeff Jones ~ Chronicles Of Arkadia

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mirador Publishing
• Release date: May 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781912192236

Shirley Dawson

I hope you will have many happy hours of reading A Twist of Fate - the first book of a trilogy. The saga takes us through three generations of the Grayson and the Fitzwilliam families. The second part, Destiny’s Path, and the third part, A Free Spirit, will be available soon. It has been such a thrill to put my thoughts and imagination into words, and hope that you will enjoy reading the stories as much as I have writing them. I hope I will meet some of you soon at a book signing event. More information will be given on Facebook as soon as it becomes available. Best wishes, Shirley Dawson,

Book preview

PROLOGUE

London 1940

Every head in the classroom turned towards the short, portly gentleman standing at the front of the class. They watched expectantly as he looked nervously out of the window and back to the sea of small tense faces waiting for his guidance. Beads of perspiration erupted on Mr Grant’s brow as he sensed the fear among the small children in his charge. The wail of the sirens seemed to be getting louder as he wiped his damp palms down the side of his trousers. Mr Grant extracted a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wiped his brow and mouth nervously.

Lay your pencils down, children and stand by your desks. His command reverberated around the classroom walls as the children stood, scraping their chairs on the wooden floor.

Now! shouted Mr Grant, his eyes focused on one small boy who remained in his seat. I told you to stand, William Arnold.

William flinched at his harsh tone. He turned his frightened eyes towards Mr Grant and slowly stood.

Right, Mr Grant continued sternly, everyone file out orderly and follow me.

The silent procession made their way through the corridor to the main school door, across the playground and out of the gate. The children knew where they were going. The exercise had been conducted many times in the past, but still the fear of the unknown never diminished.

The siren continued its deafening wailing as the children joined the crowds scurrying home or towards the air raid shelters. A uniformed warden seemed to suddenly appear, ushering the group towards the steps. Mr Grant stood at the entrance counting his charge’s heads as they filed into the shelter. As the last child passed him, he looked around puzzled. He spotted the stray child standing in the road with his eyes raised to the sky. Mr Grant followed the boy’s focus of attention. His mouth opened and closed in quick succession as he took in the scene. The unmistakeable sound of a V1 engine whirred above.

Arnold! The boy looked round at the sound of his name. Come here now! yelled Mr Grant.

William Arnold ran towards the shelter’s entrance and down the steps where he joined the rest of his class on the rough wooden seats. Some of the women smiled, others sat nervously, but the line of children remained still and silent. They knew they were in a dangerous situation and all they wanted was to be with their parents.

Suddenly, the hushed gloom of the shelter took on a different mood – the walls vibrated with a fear which was almost palpable. As the sound of the V1’s engines stopped, everyone held their breath, knowing disaster was imminent. Many bent over their knees, covering their faces and ears with their hands, attempting to block out the catastrophe which was about to happen on their own doorstep. The noise of the explosion was deafening and pandemonium immediately erupted. Several of the children started weeping as many of the women screamed. The men looked stunned, and as the harsh reality sank in, they turned towards their wives in disbelief. This was their area, their street and their homes   homes they had lived in all their lives.

Mr Grant kept a watchful eye on his class. He wasn’t the kind of man who could show emotions easily. He was a bachelor, never had a wish for a wife, and did not find his work particularly interesting. To him it was a duty, instilled in him from his father who had also worked in an educational institution. His vocation had been set at birth and at no time had he ever questioned it. He supposed he should be grateful to his father for the privileged life he had been given as a child, and one he still enjoyed. Even in this time of rationing and hardship, he was very aware that he led a comfortable existence.

No, he could honestly say that he didn’t particular like his job. However, most of the children who had passed through his hands had left the school with a decent standard of education. At the other end of the scale, he had seen plenty who had shown no interest in learning anything at all. He knew there was little anyone could do for those paltry few. Then there were a few odd ones who showed plenty of aptitude, but little enthusiasm. They were the sort who made Mr Grant wonder why he even got out of bed in the mornings. William Arnold, for example. Mr Grant had seen plenty of intelligence in the boy, and he could clearly make the grade if he settled down but he was just a dreamer who spent more time gazing out of the window than concentrating on his lessons. Surprisingly, and more often than not, he still managed to know all the answers.

Mr Grant sighed as he glanced at the boy. His solemn, pale face was streaked with black marks, and tears were still trickling down his cheeks. He knew that the boy always tried to act tough but it seemed he was just as frightened as the rest of them. Uncharacteristically, he felt pity for him. This mess of a war would put the fear of God into anyone, including himself.

The monotonous tone of the All Clear siren whined outside as the warden touched his arm. If I were you, I’d go take a look out there afore the littleuns. Bloomin’ ‘eck, you’ve never seen such a bloody mess. Anuvver Doodle Bug it was. The Jerries ‘ave done their work all right this time.

Mr Grant nodded and stood aside as the other occupiers of the shelter ventured towards the opening. Despair and sorrow filled their eyes as, tremulously, one by one they climbed the steps to see if their house was one of those blitzed to the ground. The warden did his utmost to calm and reassure the frightened crowd as they waited to mount the steps, knowing that for many, it was futile. The sheer hopelessness was evident, as they stepped into a devastatingly uncertain future.

Mr Grant turned to his class. Stay here, children, until I come back. He swallowed nervously as he climbed the steps, blinking at the bright light as he stepped on to the pavement. A fire engine screeched to a stop a little further up the road, as heat and dense smoke filled the air. Horrified, he watched firemen launch a fierce attack of water high up at the building. Smoke drifted towards him as he put his handkerchief over his mouth. His eyes stung as he wandered towards the school. Confused, he stood watching flames lick up the familiar walls, engulfing the entrance where he and the children had walked just a short while ago. The intense heat reached him as he heard the smashing of glass.

Reality suddenly hit him. No! Oh dear God, no, not the school.

PART ONE

NORTHUMBERLAND 1940

CHAPTER ONE

The boy’s chin wobbled and his eyes filled as he stared around him. Hordes of people jostled him as they alighted from the train and hurried past the group of children. Small bewildered faces looked up at the sea of strangers. Some of the children were openly crying, tears trickling down their grubby faces. Some of the older ones were trying to be brave and turned to comfort their younger siblings. William Arnold was alone – he had nobody to comfort, and nobody to reassure him that everything would be all right and they would soon be back with their parents in the comfort of their homes.

Billy’s eyes were drawn to the khaki uniforms of the soldiers, heavy kit bags slung over their shoulders as they milled around the crowds. His eyes roamed, hoping that he may spot his father. He desperately needed to see a familiar face   someone who would take him by the hand and lead him back home to his mother.

The smoke from the train filled the air as it drew away from the station. It stung Billy’s eyes as he wiped the cuff of his jacket across his tear-stained face. As he blinked, he saw that the crowds were dwindling, but the group of children remained. They each clutched a small case containing their few belongings, and some fiddled with the brown paper bag holding the forgotten remains of their dry sandwiches. A gas mask in a cardboard box hung around their necks.

Billy turned to the small girl who stood beside him. She looked about five years old, two years younger than him. A taller girl stood the other side clutching the smaller girl’s hand, whom Billy recognised from a family living in the next street to his family. As they lived close to each other in London, he wondered if they were going to the same place. The thought gave him comfort.

Billy looked up as a lady stood before him. She smiled as she stooped to read the label pinned to his jacket.

William Arnold   he is for Wells Farm, she shouted to a thin lady at the end of the row, who proceeded to tick Billy’s name off the list pinned to her clipboard. Don’t worry, dear, they are nice people – you’ll be all right there.

She patted his head and ushered him to the end of the line towards the second woman. Billy moved slowly in front of the line of children with his head bowed. Tears were threatening again as he was parted from the only familiar face in the group.

The two ladies proceeded to usher the rest of the children to different points on the platform. Billy was directed to stand beside the thin woman and gradually, more children joined him. No one spoke, they were too frightened.

After the last child had been allocated a place, Billy and the rest of his group, followed the thin lady along the platform and outside the station to a waiting bus. One by one the solemn children took their seats. Their lower lips trembled as they wondered what lay ahead. Small hands clung to their siblings for reassurance as the bus started its journey.

Billy stared out of the window at the green fields and trees, his eyes widening as he looked up at the enormous expanse of blue sky, interspersed with a few white fluffy clouds. His bottom jaw dropped as cows slowly looked up as the bus trundled past the fields. Suddenly, his mood lifted and a stirring of excitement replaced the earlier gloom. As Billy rubbed his hand over the grubby bus window, he heard quiet murmurings from the rest of the group – they were clearly as taken with their surroundings as he was. The children had only ever read about the countryside in their school books. This was a different world with unfamiliar territory, far removed from the city of London.

Houses were sparse in this area and just as Billy was wondering where everyone lived, the bus turned into a narrow lane. Hedgerows brushed the side of the bus as the driver slowly manoeuvred the vehicle to the end and stopped outside a row of cottages. As Billy looked round at the other children, the thin lady stood up and moved to the front of the bus. Clipboard in hand, she called the names of four children. Immediately, the mood changed again, and the rest of the group watched as the bewildered four stood up and joined the lady at the front of the bus. Frightened eyes quickly turned to the windows as the nominated group alighted from the bus with the lady. Noses pressed to the glass, they silently watched the children being led to the cottages. Women came out of the doors and greeted the children – Billy noticed that most were smiling as they all ushered a child inside.

A sob broke from one child. Where is my mummy? Her fists went to her eyes to try to stem the flow of tears. Words of reassurance were uttered from her older sister as the thin lady stepped on to the bus again. She stopped at the crying child.

What’s all this then? she smiled. Now, dear, there is no need for tears. She patted her head and addressed the whole group. This is where you will all be safe, away from the dreadful things that are going on in London. You will be looked after here, and although you will undoubtedly miss your parents, you must try to be grown up and appreciate what these kind people are doing for you. You will soon see your parents again after the war is over. She smiled as she swept her arm out wide. Be good children and do what is asked of you, and before you know it, you will soon be home again. She looked down at her clipboard. Right, the next stop is Wells Farm and that will be for William Arnold, hands up, William.

Billy raised his hand slowly. He looked solemn and pale as he stared at the thin lady. Good boy, William, we’ll soon have you there.

Billy was filled with apprehension. The beautiful countryside temporarily forgotten, he clutched his stomach with fear until the bus stopped again. He looked up forlornly as he felt a tap on his shoulder. Come on, William, time to get off.

Clutching his small case and brown carrier bag, he followed the lady off the bus and stood and stared. Before him, was the biggest house he had ever seen and it was in the middle of fields. His head moved swiftly around him as the lady put her hand on his back and guided him to the main door. He jumped as animal noises reached his ears, turning to look behind him as he was hurried towards the woman waiting at the door.

Hello, Mrs Wells, this is your evacuee bairn, William Arnold. The thin lady looked down at Billy. Go on, William, say hello to Mrs Wells. This is where you will be living for a while.

Billy’s mouth quivered and his brown eyes stared at Mrs Wells. Hello, he whispered.

Mrs Wells chuckled. My, we have a shy one here. Come on in, William, we’ll soon have you settled. She beckoned to him.

Although William has come from London, the family actually originates from Wolverhampton. Now I must get on. Thank you very much, Mrs Wells, and, handing her a piece of paper, this is where you can find me if you need me. The thin lady returned to the bus.

Mrs Wells took the paper and glancing at it, she ushered Billy through the door to his new temporary home.

Clara Wells stood in front of Billy in her kitchen. He looked nervous and shy as his eyes wandered around the room. As she took the case and carrier bag from him, her heart went out to the little boy who had been wrenched from his parents at a time when he needed them most. Misery and gloom was etched all over his face but she was determined to change that. She would do everything she could to make this little lad’s life happy here. He didn’t deserve to suffer during this senseless war. Didn’t it say on his papers that his father was in the army?

She sighed as she considered that he could be dead, as so many had fallen in the first year. She wondered how many more lives would be taken before it was all over.

Her gaze misted as Clara gazed into the fire. She thought of her eldest son, Peter, and prayed he was safe. She dearly hoped her prayers would soon be answered and that the fighting would stop, so her son could be returned to her. She sighed deeply. She suddenly felt an affinity with Billy’s mother – she also knew what it was like to say goodbye to a son. It must have been a terrible day for her to have put her only child on that train, not knowing when she would see him again.

Clara turned to the mantelpiece and selected a piece of paper. Why, this says that everyone calls you Billy and you’re seven years old, is that right?

Billy blinked and nodded as he looked at Clara.

Well that’s just fine, that’s what you will be called then, and you can call me Clara – Mrs Wells is such a mouthful isn’t it? She looked him up and down. I must say, Billy, you are a tall lad for only seven. A little thin though, but I’ll soon feed you up. I expect your mother has found it hard to supply good meals with the rationing. He continued to stare at her. We’re much luckier than some, we grow bagies and tetties and there’s always a fresh egg to be had. Now take off that jacket and sit down here. I expect you’re hungry. Supper won’t be for a couple of hours when Frank and Mattie come in – that’s my husband and son. You’ll meet them later but for now, I’ll get my cake tin out and see what we can find.

Later, Billy sat silently as Clara busied herself around the kitchen. He had devoured the cake and milk with relish, and the delicious smell exuding from the oven and the warmth from the stove, began to relax his body. The former anxiety started to melt away with the onset of fatigue. He folded his arms on the table as he watched Clara peeling vegetables, his eyes slowly closed and his head dropped on to his arms.

***

Billy woke suddenly. He lifted his head and his frightened eyes stared around him. For an instant, he wondered where he was and then he remembered – he had been sent here from his home in London. To the young boy, it seemed like a lifetime ago when he had said goodbye to his mother. At the thought of her, his brow creased and he looked down at his hands. He was determined he would not cry, especially in this house full of strangers.

An older man appeared from the scullery with a towel in his hand. He walked towards the stove and rubbed his face vigorously. Billy stood up suddenly at the sight of the strange man, who looked equally shocked that Billy was awake. Frank Wells noticed the boy’s nervousness as he stood beside the chair. He responded with a smile.

You’re awake then. It seemed a shame to wake you up when I came in – I expect the journey tired you out. It’s a long old haul from London. Frank hung the towel on a line above the stove. He wanted to approach the boy but he sensed he was feeling a bit wary of him. Well now, it’s Billy isn’t it? I’m Frank, Clara’s husband. Why don’t you sit down again and we’ll have a little chat.

Frank slowly walked towards a chair on the opposite side of the table and nodded for Billy to sit again. For a long moment, Frank looked into Billy’s sad, haunting eyes. He felt sorry for the lad, and suspected tears weren’t far away. He swallowed hard as he leaned towards Billy across the table. A long time ago, when I was not much older than you, my mother got sick – really sick. I didn’t understand how ill she was, but when she had to go into hospital, I just longed for the time when she would get better and come home again. Only... Frank looked down at his hands, reliving the time all those years ago, only... she didn’t come home. My father said that she’d gone away to some really lovely place, but whatever story I was told, I just knew that she would never come back again.

Frank lifted his head slowly and looked at Billy. He had his full attention now. His brown eyes looked into Frank’s, waiting for him to continue. You see, she died, Billy, but at the time, I just thought she had left us. When I was older, my father told me that my mother had so much pain in her body, that it was a happy release for her when she was taken away from me. I knew then that it was the right thing to have happened, but at the time, all I knew was that she had left me and I didn’t know the reason why. Frank patted Billy’s arm. When you are young, just like you are, things happen all the time that you cannot understand. You see, they have to happen because it is better for everyone. In my case, it was better for my mother.

My mum is coming back! Billy snapped.

Of course she is; that is why you are so lucky. Your mother will be back for you when the war ends, and in the meantime, you will be safe here. London is a very dangerous place right now and your parents wanted to protect you from harm. That is what I meant when I said that things happen for a reason. You have to sacrifice living with your parents for a while, but it won’t be for ever, they will be back for you.

When will the war end? Billy asked forlornly.

Frank leaned over and laid his hand on the boy’s arm. I am going to answer you truthfully   no one knows that, but we hope it won’t be too long. In the meantime, we will keep you as safe as we can here and maybe in return, you can help me around the farm when you’re not at school. Mattie and I have been struggling since two of the farm hands were called up. Frank leaned back in his chair and smiled. Well, what do you think of Northumberland? I bet it’s a bit different from London, eh? Billy nodded. Tell me, do you think you will be happy living here with us?

The fearful look eased as he looked at Frank. I guess so.

That’s great, ‘cos there’s lots to do around here for bonny boys like you. Have you ever been fishing?

Billy shook his head as his eyes brightened.

Well, you need to speak to old Abe. He’d spend all his time by the river if he had his way. Frank’s eyes creased at the corners. Mind you, you’ll not let him take you until all the work is done. Agreed? Billy nodded. Here, let me see your muscles, Frank asked as he stood up. Billy slowly lifted his arm and flexed his muscle. Wow! That’s amazing for a seven year old; we can certainly do with you around the place. Frank leaned across the table, hand outstretched. Do we have a deal then?

Billy slowly held his hand out and clutched Frank’s large fingers. Okay.

The door opened and a young man and lady entered. There you are, you two. Come here and meet our little visitor. Goodness me, get down, Sam, Frank laughed, as a border collie jumped up to lick his face. Billy watched enthralled.

Mattie, Thelma, this is Billy, he’s a strong young man and he’s willing to help around the place, aren’t you, lad? Frank leaned across and tousled Billy’s hair. Billy, this is my younger son, Mattie, and my eldest son’s girlfriend, Thelma.

Mattie held out his hand. Pleased to meet you, young Billy.

Billy held up his hand towards Mattie shyly, as Thelma leaned across to touch his shoulder.

Noticing Billy for the first time, Sam plodded under the table and emerged at Billy’s side. Sitting beside him, Sam’s doleful eyes mirrored Billy’s as they observed each other. Sam lifted a paw on Billy’s knee and as he touched the soft fur, Billy felt a sudden stirring in his stomach. Billy chuckled and his eyes brightened as he held Sam’s paw. Frank watched and he looked up at Mattie and Thelma. He grinned and nodded knowingly, as he witnessed the birth of a new and wonderful friendship.

CHAPTER TWO

Clara found Billy sleeping on the floor in the bedroom the next morning. He had pulled the pillow on the rug and was wrapped in a blanket. Puzzled, she glanced around and noticed the wet patch on the sheet. Gently she shook Billy’s shoulder. Suddenly he sat up with alarm.

It’s all right, Billy, don’t worry. I was wondering why you were on the floor, but I can see now that you had an accident in the night. Couldn’t you get to the chamber pot in time?

Billy rubbed his eyes and shook his head.

Clara spoke kindly. Come on, up you get, lad, let’s get you out of those pyjamas before anyone else sees, eh?

Billy stood up revealing a dark damp patch on his pyjama bottoms. He looked ashamed. I... I’m sorry. A sob caught in his throat.

Clara perched on a little stool and caught one of his hands. Did this used to happen at home? she asked quietly.

Billy shook his head.

Couldn’t you get out of bed in time?

It... it just h... happened.

Now, Billy, I don’t want you to worry about this. I’ll put the pot on this stool tonight so it will be nearer to you. Now, we need to get you washed. Frank and Mattie are out, but they’ll be back for breakfast soon. Thelma is mangling some washing in the yard so let’s get down there now and get you sorted out. I’ve got plenty of the boys’ old clothes in here which you can use. Never throw anything away, that’s me. It always comes in useful for something.

Clara rummaged in an old chest of drawers and held up a shirt and a pair of trousers. Looks as though these will be ideal, now all we want is some underwear.

Ten minutes later Billy had been washed in the scullery and dressed in some of Mattie’s old clothes.

My goodness, they look as if they had been made for you. What do you think?

Billy looked down at himself. He hadn’t worn long trousers before and although they didn’t quite meet his shoes, he was thrilled. He looked at Clara. I’m not allowed ter wear long trousers at home.

Clara smiled. Well, lad, you are here. You can’t be a proper farm helper wearing short trousers, that’s a fact. Now, wait here while I go and change your bed. I can get the sheets in the copper while it’s still hot.

Clara rushed back upstairs again and Billy wandered through the yard door. Thelma was at work beside the mangle and looked up as he approached.

Good morning, Billy, did you sleep well?

Billy nodded as he watched the water oozing out of the washing into the bucket. Dazzling white laundry fluttered on the lines in the morning breeze.

Where’s Sam? asked Billy quietly.

Thelma smiled as she looked at him. It was pretty obvious that he had taken to the dog yesterday. He’s out with Mattie. Did you have any pets in London?

Billy shook his head as he watched her turning the handle. He thought she was pretty. Her dark hair hung over her shoulders, just like his mum’s. Where’s yer boyfriend?

Thelma’s eyes widened. The question caught her completely unawares. He’s fighting in the war, just like your dad.

Why aren’t yer living with yer mum and dad then?

Thelma chuckled as she shook the pillowcase and pegged it to the line. My, you’re asking a lot of questions today aren’t you? Billy looked sheepish. Well if you must know, when Peter and I got together, I was living in your neck of the woods. Billy looked confused. London! I was living there too. Anyway, Peter thought it would become too dangerous to stay, and how right he was. He brought me back here, and I’ve been here ever since. She looked wistful as she picked up the washing basket. I’m so glad I came. Mum writes to me about the terrible things that are happening there. I just wish they’d get out too, but dad has to work. He’s one of the lucky ones who have a job.

Is yer boyfriend coming back?

Thelma gasped as her hand flew to her throat. It was such a straight forward question out of the mouth of an innocent child, but it had such a profound effect on her. She laid down her basket and fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief. Billy stared at the tears trickling down her cheeks. Thelma blew her nose. Let’s hope so, Billy. Dear God, let’s hope so. Picking up her basket again, she said sternly, You’re not to say that to Clara or Frank, it will upset them, do you understand? Billy nodded; he was crestfallen that he was the cause of her tears. As long as that is clear, we’ll go and see what’s for breakfast.

***

Billy shifted to try to reposition himself on the hard stone wall beside the gate. His bottom was getting uncomfortable and his hands were getting cold. He took one last look down the lane, sighed, and jumped off the wall. Sam jumped to his feet and wagged his tail as Billy looked down at him. Come on, Sam, let’s go.

Abe Lambert saw him coming from where he stood in the workshop; he’d been watching him for over an hour. He wondered why the boy had sat by the gate all that time, him having Sam with him too. Abe leaned back and winced with pain as he put his hand on his hip. He longed for the warmer weather when his aches and pains eased. Sighing, he reached for his bicycle and wheeled it out of the workshop. Sam ran to him and placed his wet nose in Abe’s hand affectionately.

Good boy. He leaned down to rub Sam’s head. Abe looked at the youngster approaching. Hello, lad, I should think you were getting cold sitting there all that time. Billy self-consciously kicked a stone and looked at Abe uncomfortably. You must be young Billy from London. Clara told me you were on your way here. Abe reached in his pocket for a pipe. He tamped the bowl with his finger, lit the tobacco and sucked until a steady stream of smoke filled the air. You’ll notice a difference here all right. Only been to London once and that was enough for me. Abe looked around him. Look around you, lad   hills that go on and on for ever. The finest place on Earth. Why anyone would want to live in a city is beyond me, when you can have all this.

Billy looked up at Abe. Where der yer live?

Abe tried to draw from his pipe again, realised it had gone out and put it back in his pocket. I’m from the village. I have a nice little cottage down there, just big enough for me. He turned to Billy and squinted his eyes. Fancy taking a look some time?

Billy’s eyes brightened. He turned to Abe eagerly. Yes I would, can Sam come too?

Abe chuckled. Yes, Sam can come too. Now I must be on my way. Maybe I’ll see you in the morning, young man. I’ll be around somewhere, just ask for Abe. Abe took a few steps before he turned again. Why were you waiting at the gate all that time?

Billy looked at him curiously. He liked this old fellow and he seemed to know all about him. My mum is coming fer me.

Abe looked puzzled. Your mother? When?

I don’t know, she just told me she would. Der yer think she’ll know where I am?

Abe sighed. Billy, you will have to wait until the war is over before you can go back to London. It’s not safe there, that is why you were brought here.

When will it be over then?

Abe shook his head. I wish I could tell you that, lad. Everyone wants it to be over soon, but it’s not up to us. This new chap Churchill will probably have all the answers and, in the meantime, all our boys are getting killed or injured. Thank goodness young Mattie didn’t have to go   at least Clara and Frank have kept one son safe. Is your dad away fighting too? Billy nodded sadly. Abe looked at Billy. He seemed a mature young lad for his age and he seemed as if he understood. Billy, all I’m saying is that we all have to be patient. I know you would rather be at home with your mother, but you will have a lovely time here. When you’re not at school, maybe Frank will let you help me. Any hands are better than none, and goodness knows he needs all the help he can get since the two farm hands were drafted.

Frank said yer would take me fishing.

Abe turned. Oh, did he now! Well, we’ll have to see about that! See you tomorrow, young Billy, he shouted as he mounted his bicycle, wobbled, and rode towards