‘Have you heard?’ said Pat, blowing into the bakery door in her russet coat like a flurry of autumn leaves. ‘About the Shearing lad?’

Everyone in the bakery stopped what they were doing and faced Pat. Lily put down the buns she was holding and put an arm around Mary’s shoulder. The girl had taken to helping in the shop before school. Just over a week ago the Shearing lad – a twelve-year-old boy from Moordown in Bournemouth – had been lost at sea on the torpedoed evacuee ship, City of Benares, en route to Canada. His parents had just put a death notice in the Echo and the whole town shared their grief.

‘What is it, Pat?’ said Audrey, her hand flat against her throat.

Pat smiled. ‘He’s safe!’ she exclaimed. ‘He was found in a lifeboat eight days after the ship had been torpedoed.’

‘Eight days!’ said Flo. ‘It must have been terrifying and so bitterly cold! Gracious me, that’s a miracle.’

‘I know, it’s like he’s back from the dead,’ said Pat.

Mary pulled away from under Lily’s arm and ran out through the back of the bakery. Lily frowned, but remained inside to hear more of the story. Her thoughts went immediately to Jacques. If his body had never been found, was there a tiny glimmer of hope that he could still be alive?

‘The boy’s parents are overwhelmed of course,’ continued Pat. ‘His mother apparently stood out in the street late last night and shouted that he was safe to all her neighbours. They were calling out of their windows and doors saying how glad they are! There were six children and forty adults saved, all of them kept going by a young lady who told them stories and massaged their limbs to keep out the cold.’

‘Well,’ said Mrs Collingham, wiping her eyes, ‘I think she deserves a round of applause, whoever that young lady is.’

Mrs Collingham started to clap and soon everyone waiting in the queue was clapping, until the bakery resounded with applause for the Shearing boy and the young lady who had helped keep him and the other stranded passengers alive.

‘That’ll show Hitler what we’re made of,’ said Pat.

‘Can you believe he’s starting on Greece now?’ said Mrs Collingham. ‘And did you read about Buckingham Palace being bombed? Even the Royal Family can’t escape.’

‘London’s getting it bad all right,’ said Flo. ‘The East End’s had raids every night since the start of September! Whole city is up in flames at night. My sister’s friend who works as a nurse up there says they’ve even bombed schools and hospitals, would you believe?’

The women in the bakery sighed and shook their heads in disbelief.

Lily’s hand shook as she prepared Mrs Collingham’s bread order. The talk of London had made her worry. What if her father and her stepmother had been victims of a raid? Would she know? It had been months since she’d left London and though she’d written to her father early on and had one reply from him, she hadn’t heard word from him in weeks.

‘I suppose Londoners have just got to set their teeth and grin and bear it, haven’t they?’ said Pat, with a resigned shrug. ‘We’ve all got to.’

Elsie came into the bakery, yawning, ready to go to work on the buses.

‘Late night, Elsie?’ asked Audrey.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I was helping serve refreshments to the AFS and I didn’t turn in until 2 a.m.’

‘You’re working so hard,’ said Audrey in concern. ‘William would be proud of you. Did you hear about the Shearing lad?’

Elsie broke out into a smile and nodded. ‘I’m so glad for his family,’ she said. She and Audrey briefly held hands, sharing a knowing glance. Lily knew they were both hoping for news of William and ultimately his safe return.

‘I’m going to find Mary and tell her it’s time for school,’ said Lily. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

Outside, there was no sign of Mary.

‘Mary?’ Lily called, but she wasn’t in the backyard and the gate leading out to the pavement was swinging open.

Lily went into the street and held her hand over her eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun, as she scanned the area for Mary.

‘Mary?’ she called again, walking out towards the overcliff, where she saw Mary sitting in the long grass, poking at the soil with a stick, one sock up to her knee, the other rolled down.

‘What is it, Mary?’ asked Lily, sitting down on the ground next to her. ‘Are you upset?’

Mary shrugged her shoulders and continued to poke at the floor.

Lily sat down in the grass next to the little girl, staring at the soil she was poking with the stick. It had been months since Mary arrived at the bakery and she still hadn’t spoken a word, but none of them had pushed her, instead believing she would speak in her own time.

‘Do you like it here?’ Lily asked and Mary nodded.

‘Do you miss your mother?’ Mary shrugged again.

‘I think there’s something going on inside that you probably need to get out,’ said Lily. ‘Whatever it is, you can tell me when you’re ready. Now, what have you got here? I think it’s a stag beetle. Isn’t it amazing?’

The stag beetle’s black shell shone with an almost blue tinge in the sunlight.

‘Do you know what stag beetles do?’ said Lily. ‘They live in a piece of wood for years as larvae before they make a cocoon and transform into adults. Then they come out in summer, just for the summer, like this one and look for a mate. They don’t have long to shine, do they? So we should feel extra lucky to have seen one.’

Mary looked up at Lily then, her eyes glassy. Lily felt absolutely sure the little girl was desperate to speak, but that she just couldn’t find the words.