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back to their duties. ‘The show’s over,’ she said as the last bomber disappeared into the distance. The coolies and servants melted away instantly, and she turned to Jane. ‘Have you finished your homework?’
    Jane looked mulish. ‘It’s boring,’ she muttered. ‘And I’m sick of being treated like a baby.’
    Sarah’s reply was forestalled by a muffled boom that came from the far south and resonated through the forest canopy.
    Jane clutched the railing, her eyes wide with alarm. ‘What was that?’
    ‘Fireworks,’ said Sybil quickly as another boom echoed the first and was swiftly followed by several more.
    Jane frowned. ‘That sounded very loud,’ she replied, ‘and I can’t see any rockets or sparkles going up.’
    ‘That’s because they’re too far away,’ replied Sybil purposefully. ‘Go and do your homework, Jane, otherwise there will be no lunch at the club, and no swimming.’
    Jane eyed her mother and sister for a long, tense moment, then turned on her heel and went indoors.
    Sarah had seen the look in Jane’s eyes and the scornful curl to her lip, and it confirmed her suspicion that Jane hadn’t been fooled – that she understood all too well that something bad had happened. ‘We’ll have to tell her the truth, Mother,’ she murmured. ‘She’s not stupid and she knows something’s up.’
    ‘Not yet,’ replied Sybil. ‘Not until your father agrees.’
    Sarah realised her mother was simply playing for time in the hope that the night’s events would prove to be nothing more than a hiccup in the orderliness of their lives, but as she turned back to the railing, her mouth dried and her fears increased. The glimmer of distant searchlight beams flickered through the red haze that was slowly building on the southern horizon. The unthinkable had happened. Singapore was under attack.

Chapter Three
Cliffehaven, England, December 1941
    Beach View Boarding House was almost silent but for the usual creaks and groans of old timbers and pipes settling, and the snores she could hear coming from Jim and Ron in the two basement rooms. Peggy Reilly eased her back into the mound of pillows she’d propped against the headboard of the big double bed, and sleepily held her baby to her breast. It was barely three in the morning and Daisy was not yet twelve hours old.
    She gave a wry smile as she thought of her husband, Jim, who would no doubt tell her tomorrow that he hadn’t slept a wink on that bunk bed – that his father’s snoring had kept him awake, and the smell of damp dog and abandoned ferret cages was irritating his sinuses – but by the sound of things, he was doing all right down there and a couple of nights of discomfort wouldn’t kill him.
    She settled more comfortably into the pillows, enjoying the unaccustomed space of the entire double bed and the peace of not having a restless Jim muttering in her ear or prodding her in the back with his elbows.She smiled down at the tiny baby in her arms and softly touched her cheek. ‘It’s nice to be just you and me for a bit, isn’t it, Daisy?’ she whispered.
    The baby continued to suckle, her tiny fists bunched beneath her chin, the long dark lashes feathering her peachy cheek. Peggy lovingly ran her finger through the downy shock of dark hair as her thoughts turned back to Jim and Ron.
    Jim had been banished from the bedroom by the young midwife, Alison Chenoweth, so he had gone downstairs to the room next to his father’s. It had once been the domain of their two young sons, Bob and Charlie, but since they’d been evacuated to Somerset, it had become a useful space for Ron to throw all his clutter and store the bicycles.
    Peggy had heard the arguments as Jim tried to clear a space amid the collection of wellington boots, poacher’s coats, old ferret cages and numerous bits of fishing tackle, and had also heard the slam of the back door as Ron had stomped off to the pub in high dudgeon with his dog Harvey. The situation couldn’t