Prologue
8th May 1945, Abbeydale, Surrey.
“When’s Mummy coming?”
Sally Matthews took a deep breath as she gathered the seven-year-old girl up in her arms. With one hand she pushed the child’s blonde hair from her eyes.
“Liesl, we’ve spoken about this. They have only just announced the war is over.”
“But she said. She wrote in her letter. She said she would come as soon as the war was over. Then we would go home.” Liesl bit her lip, her brown, tear-filled eyes staring into Sally’s face. Sally’s heart ached. How could she tell this poor child the chances of her mother being able to keep her word were all but nil? She tried to find the words, as the child’s heart fluttered against her chest. What the child said next shocked her.
“Do I have to go with her?” Liesl whispered, wrapping her arms around Sally’s neck, dampening her skin with tears. “I want to stay with you. I love you.”
“Oh, you poor darling.” Sally buried the guilt that fought for domination over the warmth the child’s words gave her. “I love you too.”
She loved Liesl desperately and couldn’t bear to think of the day when they might be separated. Although the chances of the child’s mother reappearing were small, she did have other close family. Her half-brothers Harry and Tom, and there could be cousins, aunts, and uncles too. Who knew what members of the family had survived the Nazis' hatred?
“Is Harry coming back soon? Now the war is over?” Liesl asked, still holding tightly to Sally.
“I think Harry might be busy for a while. He has his new job now, do you remember? He is helping the people in Germany. He’s done very well, your brother, hasn’t he?”
Liesl nodded her head but the worried expression hadn’t left her face. Then the front door banged and they heard eleven-year-old Tom, shouting.
“Aunt Sally, where are you? Can we go to London? Please say yes, all my friends are going. Oh, what’s wrong with Liesl?” Tom came to a standstill at the entrance to the kitchen.
“Liesl was upset and asking about your mother.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “My mother’s dead. She died before the war started.”
Sally took a breath, now was not the time to scold the boy. “Tom! Liesl’s talking about her mother, your stepmother.”
“Oh her.” Tom’s cheeks grew red as he refused to look Sally in the face. She knew from previous conversations, Tom had taken a strong dislike to his stepmother, once Trudi had fallen pregnant. He feared she was going to love her own baby more than she did Tom and Harry. This suspicion appeared to have been unfounded according to what Harry remembered. But Tom had only been three-years-old when his father remarried. Liesl’s mother, Trudi, had been little more than a child herself. Nineteen was far too young to become a stepmother to two boys of three and eleven-years-of-age.
“Tom,” Sally said pointedly, looking at the top of Liesl’s head. For all his dislike of Trudi, Tom idolized his baby sister and would do anything for her. At least he would, except when his friends were around, as then he would be far too grown-up to play with a baby of just seven.
Tom took the hint, pulling Liesl into his arms and tickling her until she begged for mercy.
“Liesl, we are going to have a party. A big one with jelly and ice-cream and everything. We are going to have so much to eat, we will all be sick.”
Liesl giggled, the noise making Sally’s heart sing. Tom, like many growing boys, was always hungry and found rationing difficult. Sally gave Liesl a hug before standing up and patting down her apron.
“I have baking to do. I promised Mrs. Caldwell I would make some carrot cake for the street party. It’s the best we can do seeing everything is still on ration.”
“Wait,” Tom said, catching his breath. “Before you start making cakes, can we go to London? Please. Everyone is going. Please say yes, Aunt Sally. It’s a historic day. Mr. Churchill himself is going to speak and we might even see the King and Queen.”
Sally hid her smile. Tom knew she loved the royal family. Amused to see him using this as a means of getting her to say yes, she clapped her hands, surprising both children.
“Why not? It’s a special day as you so rightly say. Let me go change my dress. You both should change too, as you look like right, little horrors.”
Tom glanced down at his clothes; his shorts were muddy but not as bad as his socks and shoes.
“Aww, do we have to? We’ll miss the train.”
Sally put her hands on her hips. “Tom Beck, do you want to go, or don’t you?”
“Yes, Aunt Sally. Come on Liesl. Race you.”
Tears forgotten; Liesl ran after her brother up the stairs. Sounds of laughter floated downstairs as they raced to get into their Sunday best. Sally glanced around her kitchen, her gaze flickering over the picture of her husband, Derek. If only you were coming back, she thought.
Shaking those thoughts away, she picked up the dishcloth and quickly dried and put away the dishes. Only when her kitchen was spick and span did she head to her room to change her clothes.
At the train station, they found many of her friends and neighbors had had the same thought.
“Wouldn’t be the same to miss it, would it, Sally? After all these years. Especially with your Derek and my Sam giving their lives for freedom. Imagine their faces if they could see us now.”
Sally forced a smile in greeting. Enid, her school friend, and longtime neighbor, once closer than sisters, although they had fallen out in recent years. Enid was one of the villagers who’d protested at taking in Germans, as she called the
