The billeting officer for child evacuees, Margaret Peak, called when Mary was at school and the queue for morning bread was trailing down Fisherman’s Road. For a second Audrey wondered if she was there to scold her, as Mary had forgotten to take her gas mask to school twice last week. It was only when the schoolteacher told Mary she wouldn’t be able to attend the victory party when the war was over that the little girl made sure to take it. Audrey appreciated the schoolteacher’s optimism and sent her in two rock cakes.

‘Can’t it wait, Margaret?’ asked Audrey. ‘You can see how busy we are.’

Margaret was a friend of Pat’s and very much cut from the same cloth. Sturdy, resilient and with a manner of someone who had ‘seen it all’, she shook her head, unperturbed by the queue.

‘Not really,’ she said. ‘It will only take a minute, if I can talk to you in private, please.’

Rubbing her forehead, Audrey sighed and asked Maggie to hold the fort, then she ushered Margaret into the back room, where the day’s scones and cakes were cooling.

‘If you’re here to ask me to take on another littl’un,’ said Audrey, ‘I don’t know where I’d put her or him. But, of course, I will try. If there’s a little evacuee that needs a home, I will find space.’

The billeting officer smiled gratefully, but shook her head, her lips pursed together. ‘No, Mrs Barton,’ she said. ‘It’s more delicate than that, I’m afraid. How is Mary doing here?’

Audrey smiled, pushing her hands into her apron pockets as she thought about the girl she had grown to love as if she were her own. Happiest when cuddling her pet rabbit, or engrossed in a jigsaw puzzle while Audrey worked in the kitchen, she had grown in confidence and happiness. Mary was a good little helper too and relished helping with the baking, or in the shop.

‘She’s a lovely girl,’ said Audrey. ‘She’s quiet and a thinker, but she’s come on leaps and bounds since she first arrived. You know she’d never seen the sea or the sea birds, or a lamb or cow, so she’s learned a great deal about nature, I think. She never used to say a word, but now she does talk. She loves baking with me. In fact, she’s become like my little shadow – my companion. I care for her deeply, I really do.’

Margaret nodded and took a letter from her coat pocket. She handed it to Audrey, who unfolded it and quickly scanned the words, the weight of them pressing down on her shoulders. Her hand flying to her mouth, she handed it back to Margaret.

‘Oh dear God, no!’ said Audrey, a deep frown creasing her brow.

‘Her father was killed in action,’ Margaret said quietly. ‘She’ll need to be told, of course. Are you willing to break the news to her, Audrey?’

Audrey blinked before taking a deep breath and nodding.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I told her about her mother at Christmas. I don’t know how the poor thing will take this, though. How dreadful!’

Margaret murmured in agreement, and shook her head sadly. ‘Unfortunately this isn’t the first time I’ve had to make one of these visits to an evacuee. Luckily, Mary has you for support.’

Audrey smiled at the kind comment, then rubbed her forehead, aware of the enormity of the awful task ahead.

‘And for the time being, are you happy to keep Mary with you at the bakery?’ Margaret asked. ‘Mary has an ageing aunt in Scotland who’s in no fit state to look after a child, so I expect she’ll have to go into a children’s home.’

Audrey didn’t hesitate for a moment. There was no way Mary was going to suffer more disruption and go into a children’s home with nobody there who knew her or cared about her.

‘Never,’ said Audrey. ‘She’s part of the family. I’ll do whatever I need to do, Margaret. Perhaps I can write to her aunt and ask for her permission? Mary must stay here with me – she’s family.’

Margaret nodded briskly and held out her hand for Audrey to shake.

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I’ll look into it for you, Audrey. Mary is lucky to have you looking out for her. Very lucky indeed.’

Audrey’s thoughts went to the numerous disappointments she’d had when trying and failing to fall pregnant. She smiled at Margaret and said: ‘We’re lucky to have each other.’

---

Audrey reached up to the top of the kitchen dresser and pulled down the Peter Rabbit sweet tin that held a few remaining barley sugar twists inside. She offered one to Mary, who, after a hasty ‘thank you’, quickly took one of the sticky orange twists, popping it in her mouth and tucking it safely into her cheek, a smile breaking out over her lips.

‘Is it m’ birthday?’ Mary said, her eyes twinkling. Usually the barley sugar tin only came out in the air-raid shelter if they had a particularly long sit, waiting for the ‘all-clear’ to sound.

‘No, love, else there’d be musical bumps, jellies and party hats,’ said Audrey, smiling, but feeling thoroughly wretched at the thought of the news she had to break. ‘I thought we could go for a walk together in a minute, to the sea cliffs – see if the sand martins have flocked yet, ready to follow the swifts overseas. What do you think? I sometimes wonder if all those Spitfires and Hurricanes worry the birds and put them off their journeys…’

Mary shrugged and Audrey stopped talking, realising that nerves were making her witter on. It was the end of a busy day and Audrey had spent every moment of it worrying about how to tell Mary about her father’s death. The child had already endured so much sadness: her brother’s death, her mother’s death – and now this. Was there a point when she could not withstand any more tragedy?

Walking out to the sea cliffs beyond the Overcliff, where there was a small area civilians could still access, Mary and Audrey sat down on a mound of grass and looked out over the sea. Pointing to a flock of small, dark and pale brown birds flying near small tunnels they’d excavated in the cliffs, they watched them swoop and dip through the sky, flying with natural agility, their excited twittering carrying through the air.

‘Oh no!’ said Mary, glancing up at Audrey. ‘There’s one there on the ground that’s injured. It looks like its wing isn’t working properly.’

Audrey strained to see the bird Mary was referring to.

‘Perhaps it’s having a rest,’ she said, nudging her shoulder into Mary’s. ‘It’s gathering strength because they’ll all fly off to Africa for the winter, where it’s warm, then they’ll come back again next year. You can tell the seasons by the birds – and whether the harvest will be late or early. Charlie told me that.’

Then, after a long pause while they sat watching the birds, Audrey picked up Mary’s hand and held it tightly. ‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ she said, her heart hammering in her chest. ‘It’s sad news, I’m afraid, Mary.’

Mary picked up a pebble from the ground and turned it over in her hand. She stared up at Audrey, her big brown eyes like pools, her cheeks bright. ‘Is it Daddy?’ she said in a tiny voice.

Audrey nodded and swallowed hard. She had to remain composed, despite how she really felt.

‘I’m afraid so, Mary,’ she said. ‘There was a letter from the military, to inform his family that he has died. The letter came to me. Your father was killed in combat, fighting in the war.’

‘Why was he fighting?’ Mary immediately asked. ‘He used to tell me off for fighting with my brother.’

Audrey’s throat ached with emotion, but continuing to hold Mary’s hand, she quickly tried to work out how best to explain the inexplicable. The little girl’s eyes were burning into Audrey’s face, waiting for an answer.

‘The war is complicated,’ she said. ‘Your father was fighting to try to help end the war.’

‘But why was he fighting?’ Mary insisted. ‘I don’t understand why he was fighting.’

Audrey could see that Mary was agitated. Her mouth was contorting as she spoke and she battled to hold in her tears. Her shoulders had stiffened and she held her hands on her lap in fists.

‘Because…’ Audrey started, her eyes darting around her as she struggled to formulate an answer. ‘Because when one person starts fighting, it’s difficult not to fight back.’

‘But it’s wrong to fight,’ Mary said again, her voice hoarse. ‘I would never, ever fight anyone. At school when you fight you are sent to the head teacher and made to write lines or stand in the corner and face the wall. It’s stupid and wrong and naughty. NAUGHTY DADDY!’

She threw the pebble as hard as her little arm could throw, then threw herself flat onto the ground, sobbing so hard her body convulsed.

Audrey crouched down on the soil next to her, resting her hand on Mary’s back, which was hot and clammy through her dress. Though Audrey tried desperately to remain calm, tears dripped down her face.

‘He wasn’t naughty,’ she said softly. ‘He was doing his duty and, very sadly, he lost his life. We must be kind to his memory.’

Mary kneeled upright, her face red and wet from crying. Her body was taut with anger. ‘I don’t want memories!’ she screeched. ‘I want my daddy, my mummy and my brother back! Why have they all left me? They didn’t care about me!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Audrey said, gently taking her little frame and holding her in her arms, tightly, until the sobbing relented into hiccups and the collar of her dress was sodden with Mary’s tears. ‘I’m sorry, Mary. I’m so sorry.’

After a long time, with the light fading and the sand martins now black dots and dashes against the sky, like Morse code, Audrey asked Mary if she was ready to go home. Mary seemed empty and withdrawn and it felt to Audrey as if she had retreated within herself again, somewhere impossible to reach.

As they stood up from their spot on the grass, Mary looked back at where the injured bird had been rooted to the spot the entire time. Audrey willed it, with all her might, to take flight and, as if the universe had heard her wish, the bird lifted its fragile wings and took to the sky, where it joined a small flock of birds preparing to migrate, and was, thank goodness, no longer alone.

‘Come on, Mary dear,’ Audrey said. ‘Let’s get you home.’