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Lil pulled a face. ‘She always is. I’ve asked her countless times in the past but she always says she prefers her own company. She can’t abide all the daft games folks play at
Christmas.’

‘She could just come for her dinner and then go home again, if that’s what she wants. We wouldn’t be offended. Besides, I doubt we’ll be playing many games with only
Shirley here.’

Lil laughed. ‘Shirley won’t let Christmas pass without a game of charades and your Jessie’s always up for a bit of fun. But, yes, I’ll ask Norma. Thanks, Edie. Now,
let’s get plucking.’

The day after the arrival of the cockerels, Edie at last received a letter from Beth.

I’m so sorry,
she wrote,
but I won’t be able to get home for Christmas. The children are home from school and are so excited that Madame really can’t cope with
them.

There was truth in this statement, but it was not the whole truth. Work in Baker Street did not stop just because it was Christmas, but Beth kindly insisted that Alan took two days to spend with
his wife and children, of whom he saw little enough these days. Simone never complained. She knew his work was important and that the fight was to save her beloved France. At least he was with her
occasionally, unlike the poor soldiers who were abroad and away from their families for months – even years – at a time.

And, in truth, Beth was a little nervous of going home. It was relatively easy to keep silent about the secret work she was involved in whilst she was living amongst it, but she was so afraid
that once home again in the bosom of her family, she would be asked awkward questions and her very evasiveness would arouse their suspicions. And the worst to resist would be her father’s
gentle probing.

But at least Edie had seven people round her table for Christmas dinner.

‘We’ve brought our week’s rations for you, Edie,’ Jessie greeted her as soon as they stepped into the house. ‘They’ve doubled the tea ration for Christmas
week and upped the sugar too. Did you know?’

Edie nodded. ‘Me ’n’ Lil have got ours, but thank you, Jessie. It’s most generous of you.’

Jessie flapped away her thanks with a smile. ‘It’s the very least we can do. My word,’ she added, as she sniffed the air. ‘What a delicious aroma is emanating from your
oven, Edie, and Harry’s managed to bring two bottles of wine – though you can’t obtain anything French now for love nor money. A white and a red. I hope that’s
acceptable.’

‘It’s lovely, Jessie – thank you, Harry.’

Rather sheepishly, Harry drew out a small bottle of whisky from his inside pocket. ‘And a little nip of the hard stuff for me and Archie. To keep out the cold, you know,’ he added
with a broad wink.

Edie laughed. ‘Of course, Harry. Would I think anything else? Come in, come in and make yourselves at home. Oh, and here’s Norma.’

Lil’s sister had brought gifts of food too, though Edie noticed that there were no rationed goods amongst her offering. But what she had brought would have cost her far more than pre-war
prices and Edie was grateful for the gesture.

Whilst Edie and Lil, red-faced and anxious, scurried between the scullery, the living room and the front room carrying steaming dishes of vegetables, Archie played the magnanimous host.

‘Now, Norma, how about a little pre-dinner sherry for you?’

‘Oh, I shouldn’t really, Archie, but it is a special occasion.’ She held out her glass, which Archie generously filled to the brim, remembering the wedding reception. Norma, it
seemed, was quite partial to a sherry or two.

When he had poured a sherry for Jessie and a beer for himself and Harry, Archie sat down by the fire.

‘No use you sitting down, m’lad,’ Edie said. ‘You’ll have to come and carry these two birds to the table.’

‘No rest for the wicked, eh, Harry?’ Archie said good-naturedly as he heaved himself out of his chair again.

Minutes later they were all seated around the table, admiring the two cockerels.

‘They’re plump birds,’ Norma said. ‘The ones in the butcher’s were skinny. Hardly any meat on them.’

‘It was a generous gift, no doubt,’ Harry said. ‘Did Mr Schofield say how the family are? I expect they’ll be having a real farmhouse feast. Here’s to ’em, I
say.’ And he raised his glass.

The conversation continued around the table until, one by one, they fell silent as they began to eat. Then there was Edie’s pudding to follow and Lil’s mince pies, freshly baked that
morning.

‘I couldn’t eat another thing,’ Jessie declared.

‘Nor me,’ Norma agreed, standing up a little unsteadily. ‘And now we must help with the washing-up.’

‘Oh, there’s no need—’ Edie began, but Norma and Jessie insisted.

‘And you, young lady,’ Jessie added, tapping Shirley on the shoulder, ‘can give us a hand. That’s if you want us all to play charades with you later.’ Everyone
laughed but, although she pulled a face, Shirley got up and began to help clear the table.

After everything had been cleared away, it was present-giving time. Most of the gifts this year were of a practical nature. Because Harry didn’t go to sea and was able to run an allotment
as well as the strip of garden at the back of his house, he was given gardening tools and seeds. But it was Lil’s gift to Shirley that caused the girl to squeal with delight. ‘Oh, Aunty
Lil, soap! Wherever did you find it? I hope you didn’t pay a fortune for it.’

‘Not – exactly.’ Lil bit her lip and then confessed. ‘It’s some I’d been saving from before the war.’

‘That’s kind of you, Aunty Lil. Are you sure?’

‘’Course I am, duck.’

‘And what are you glancing at the clock for, Archie Kelsey?’ Edie smiled. ‘As if I didn’t know.’

Archie shifted uneasily in his chair and exchanged a glance with Harry. ‘Well, we – er – were just wondering—’

‘If you could go to the match,’ Edie finished his sentence for him with a chuckle as she turned to her sister. ‘What d’you reckon, Jessie? Shall we let ’em
go?’

Jessie waved her hand airily. ‘I don’t see why not, Edie. We can have a good old gossip if they’re out of the way. Who are they playing?’

‘Hull,’ both men chorused promptly.

‘They’re playing at Scunthorpe,’ Harry put in, ‘but Bert Platt down the street has still got his car on the road. He said he’ll give us a lift.’

Both men glanced at the clock. There was still time to reach the ground before the kick-off.

‘Then you’d better get off.’

‘You’re a good ’un, Edie Kelsey.’ Archie kissed his wife soundly on the cheek. ‘Come on, then, Harry.’

The two men hastily donned their jackets and black and white scarves knitted by their wives in Grimsby Town’s colours and scuttled out of the back door before Edie or Jessie could change
their minds.

‘Now,’ Shirley said firmly, as the door closed behind the two men. ‘How about a nice game of charades?’ But it wasn’t quite the same without Beth’s hilarious
antics and Frank and Reggie playing up to her.

It had been a good day in a lot of ways, Edie thought, as she got ready for bed that night, but not the same. It would never be the same unless all her family were around her. And now that could
never happen again.

Quietly, she shed a few tears into her pillow whilst Archie snored gently beside her.

Shirley was lonely now that both Beth and Irene had gone away. She even missed Reggie. Although she enjoyed her work, she didn’t mix with the other women and girls from
Oldroyd’s and it wasn’t much fun going to the cinema or dancing on her own. But several times, as she walked home from work, she saw a young woman with blond curly hair – so fair
that it was almost white – going into one of the houses at the opposite end of the street to where Shirley lived. They began to nod to each other, then to say a tentative ‘hello’
and finally, one evening, Shirley smiled and stopped. ‘I keep seeing you – do you live here?’

‘I lodge here.’ The girl nodded towards one of the nearby terraced houses. ‘With Mrs Porter.’

Shirley grimaced. ‘I don’t envy you. She’s a miserable old cow.’

‘She is unhappy woman, I think.’

Shirley was startled by the strange accent and, as if seeing a question in Shirley’s eyes, the girl said swiftly, ‘I am Swiss. I am freelance reporter for the local paper.’

‘Ah, I see,’ Shirley said. ‘Well, if you fancy a night out sometime, to the pictures or something . . .’

The girl smiled. ‘I would like that.’

And that was how it had started. Shirley was a chatterbox and soon Ursula knew quite a lot about the Kelseys and the Hortons. ‘What about your family?’ Shirley asked one evening as
they walked home from the cinema. ‘You never say much about them.’

Ursula shrugged. ‘I haven’t seen them recently.’

‘Are they still in England?’

Ursula shook her head. ‘No – no. They went back to Switzerland just before the war started.’

‘Why didn’t you go back with them?’

Again, Ursula gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘I like it here and besides, back then I had a boyfriend I didn’t want to leave.’

‘Had?’ Shirley asked carefully.

‘He – he was killed at Dunkirk.’

Shirley put her arm through her friend’s. ‘Like our Laurence,’ she said softly. ‘I am sorry.’

Ursula turned her head away as if to hide tears.

They paused outside the gate of the house where Ursula had lodgings. ‘Haven’t you found it difficult here in England? Because you do have a bit of an accent.’

Ursula laughed ironically. ‘Sometimes, but as soon as I show my Swiss papers people accept that I am who I say I am.’

‘I’m surprised you haven’t been snapped up by the war office to help them with translating and such. Still,’ Shirley added as she squeezed the girl’s arm.
‘I’m glad you haven’t or you wouldn’t be here.’

Ursula was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Perhaps that is what your sister is doing. You said she speaks good French.’

‘Maybe. Whatever it is, she’s not very bothered about the rest of her family,’ Shirley said bitterly. ‘She hardly ever writes now, though when she first went away, her
letters were several pages long. She doesn’t even tell us where she is. Anyway, I’d better go. Mam’ll whinge if I’m later than I said. ’Night, Ursula. See
you.’

As Shirley disappeared into the darkness of the blackout, Ursula waited a moment before turning and walking back to the end of the road, but this time, instead of turning towards the town again,
she took the way that led to the docks.

Archie’s was one of the few trawlers still going to sea to fish. Many had been requisitioned by the Navy and had been turned into minesweepers.

‘I’m pleased you’re not going on one of those,’ Edie had said. ‘At least you’re doing what you’ve always done. We’re all used to that.
Minesweeping must be ever so dangerous.’

Archie said nothing. The North Sea was now an even more perilous place. He did not tell his wife that his ship had been fitted with guns in case of attack, nor about the trawlers that were
already being lost – and not only those which had been turned into minesweepers for the duration of the war. The Nazi planes had no compunction in attacking innocent fishing vessels wherever
they found them. Although he felt guilty keeping yet another secret from Edie, he didn’t want to worry her; she had enough anxieties already. His trips were mainly confined to a strip down
the east coast of the country, much of the North Sea being closed to fishing now. But there were times when he went to the west coast of Scotland and the Hebrides and even into the Irish Sea,
though in the early months of the war, several trawlers had been sunk off the north and northwest coast of Ireland by U-boats. Mines, too, were a constant threat. All this Archie kept to himself
and he certainly never told her if he was venturing into Icelandic waters. Luckily for him, it was a tradition that fishermen’s wives never asked where their husbands were going; another
superstition that Edie respected.

‘Edie, love,’ Archie said, when he was at home for longer than usual in March, 1941, ‘You know you refused to have an Anderson in the yard . . .’

‘I most certainly did, Archie. I hope you’re not going to bring that argument up again.’

‘No, love, I’m not, but I really would like you to have something here.’

‘But it’s only a step away into Lil’s yard,’ Edie argued.

‘I know, love, I know, but I’ve heard there’s a new type of shelter available – one you can have in the house. It’s called a Morrison shelter after the Home
Secretary, Herbert Morrison. They say he designed it. If you really won’t let me build you an Anderson in our yard—’

‘I won’t.’

‘Then at least let’s consider this. It sounds like a good idea. ’

‘What is it?’ Edie was suspicious. ‘What’s it like and where will it go?’

‘It’s a big metal cage about the size of our dining table – mebbe a bit bigger. In fact, that’s where it would be best. We don’t use that room a lot
—’

‘We do at Christmas and Easter,’ Edie argued, determined not to let Hitler spoil all their fun.

‘I know, love,’ Archie said patiently. She was a grand wife, his Edie, and she was coping remarkably well with all the hardships. When he had to be away he was glad that she had Lil
close by, but even Lil couldn’t take away the constant worry Edie had when he was at sea. Archie knew Beth and Frank were never far from her mind either, just as they weren’t from his,
and she was still struggling with the loss of their firstborn. He just hoped that Reggie, Irene and the baby were as safe in the countryside as they believed them to be.

‘But if I take the dining table down and store it in the shed,’ he went on, ‘the Morrison will serve as a table too.’

‘I’ll tell you when I see it,’ was all Edie would promise. She didn’t want to argue with her husband; he was only thinking of their safety and she had to admit it had
been very scary hiding under the table or squeezing into the cupboard under the stairs when the town was targeted by the Luftwaffe.

The monstrosity, as Edie came to call it, arrived the following week and she watched Archie erect it with a sour expression on her face. It was a large metal cage the same height as their dining
table but a little longer and wider and had a sturdy iron frame and a steel top. The steel mesh, put up from the inside when an air raid happened, gave extra protection.