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give some protection if the house was affected by bombs dropping nearby. Ruby wasn’t so sure about that, and told George in no uncertain terms that she’d rather sit in the middle of the garden – at least then she could see what was going to land on top of her, rather than hide in fear in the dark.

What had made her smile was the news that they would know it was clear to come out from hiding when they heard the Boy Scouts riding past on bicycles, blowing their whistles. As she said to Pat, what mother in their right mind would let her sons out on their bicycles at a time like that? Looking up at the clock on the mantelpiece, she noticed it was getting late. George should have collected Pat by now and been home. Perhaps she should have a look to see where they were? Pulling her coat around her shoulders, she walked out to the front gate and looked up and down Alexandra Road. Wherever had they got to? Feeling as though she was being watched, she turned to look at the bay window of next door, and there was Miss Hunter watching her. Ruby jutted her chin out in defiance and stared back at the nosy old woman. Why didn’t she mind her own business?

As she stood there wondering what to do, the door opposite opened and Frank stepped out. Catching sight of Ruby, he waved. ‘Is there something up?’ he called out.

‘George is picking Pat up from Brownies, and they should have been home by now. I’m getting worried.’

Frank hurried over the road. ‘They probably stopped to chat to somebody,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to walk up the road and look out for them? I could go as far as Britannia Bridge and wait there.’

‘There’s no need, thanks all the same, Frank. You’re probably right; George hasn’t eaten yet, although I fed Pat before she went out. I reckon she’ll be hungry again too. Why don’t you come along in and warm yourself up by the fire? I’ll give you a bowl of stew. I have a nice crusty loaf as well, if you’d like a bit of that to dip in the gravy.’

Frank rubbed his hands together. ‘Sounds good to me. Evening, Miss Hunter, how are you?’ He waved to where their neighbour was again peering round her curtain.

‘My God, that woman is nosy,’ Ruby all but swore. ‘I don’t seem to be able to do anything without her clocking what I’m up to.’

He chuckled. ‘She’s probably just a lonely old woman.’

‘Shush, Frank. You make me sound like a moaning old witch. If you were here as much as me and had her watching your every move, you’d be moaning too,’ she laughed back at him. ‘Come and warm yourself up while I get your food,’ she nagged gently.

Frank smiled and shook his head; Ruby could be such a worrier at times. That’s why I love her so much, he thought, stopping short as he thought of the word ‘love’. Yes, he did love Ruby, very much. He wanted only the best for her, just as he did for his brothers. Or should that be brother, now that Donald had died? As cut up as he was over the loss, he was more worried for his mother and father. Wilf was displaying his typical stiff upper lip, even talking about going back on the river tomorrow, but Stella sat staring into space, every now and then dissolving into sobs. This had happened several times; she would scream Donald’s name while holding herself tight, her arms wrapped round her body as she rocked back and forth in her armchair. Wilf watched helplessly, while Frank hugged his mother and soothed her tears. If she was no better in the morning, he would call the doctor to see if there was something that could be done. No one should have to suffer this much grief.

His thoughts wandered to Derek. The last Frank had heard, he had been out on the Somme somewhere. Frank took comfort in the fact that he was with Eddie Caselton and their mate Ernie Minchin. They could all watch out for each other.

‘That looks good,’ he said, rubbing his hands together as Ruby carried in the bowl of hot stew.

‘I know we should sit at the table and eat, but the fire is so nice in here, it seems more cosy on such a miserable evening. Just mind you don’t spill it on my rug,’ she cautioned him good-naturedly. ‘Will you be going back to Stephen at the shop this evening? It’s a shame you never got to go back and bring him here for his dinner.’

‘I was going to, but I think instead I’ll stay with Mum and Dad. They shouldn’t be left alone tonight. Dad seems completely lost while Mum . . . She is falling apart,’ Frank said, the words catching in his throat.

‘Oh, my poor love,’ Ruby said as she took the bowl of food from him and placed it on the floor by the hearth before hugging Frank close. ‘This bloody, bloody war. I hate it all – I’m frightened to sleep in my bed at night and I worry for the children. Who’d have thought bombs could be carried by planes and dropped on people? Monsters, these Germans are!’

‘You have to remember, we have planes dropping bombs on the enemy as well. Does that make us monsters too? There are mothers on each side of this war worrying about their sons and crying when they don’t come home. War is bad for everyone, and we need to try and stop it.’

‘How can we do that – how can we stop a war without fighting?’ Ruby asked, confused by his words.

‘By refusing to fight. I’ve been to a couple of meetings along with Stephen. It seems if we put our case across properly, they can’t make us fight.’

Ruby didn’t like what she was hearing. Although she hated

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