The Orphan Thief. Glynis Peters

since yesterday. I’ll keep an ear out. Stephen had a cat, so there’s a chance it ran away after the bombing and has found its way home. Ooh, look, time for the King to say his piece,’ Ruby said and turned on the radio. They both stood as the National Anthem played. When the King spoke of Christmas being for children, no matter where they might be, the words hit Ruby hard.

      At the end, Fred gave a huff of indifference. ‘A happy Christmas. We’ve coped, but can’t say either of us, nor any of them poor buggers – excuse the language – fighting are having a happy one, and some won’t ever again. Words are all very well, but this war needs to end. We were told it would be over by now. What’s the point of carrying on living? Politicians. Pah.’

      He drained his glass and Ruby held back from offering him another. His flushed cheeks and fired up temper told her she’d been generous enough the first time around.

      ‘It’s tough for us all, Fred, I agree, but we have to find a way forward. Tomorrow, I’m going to write a list of the stock I’ve collected. I’m going to label it all with the street and, where possible, the number of the house I found it, so if anyone claims it as theirs I can give it back. If not, I’ll sell it on. You can help and polish a bit of brass for me, and I’m sure you’re a dab hand with a screwdriver and paintbrush. We’ll make it work, Fred. Me and you, we’ll get through this.’