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family. Even though Grandma was really nice to him, he suddenly felt really sad that they were all separated.
    There was a lump in his throat, and he had to blink back the tears from his eyes. The welling up of emotion had taken him by surprise, especially since he had been away from home almost four weeks and so far he hadn’t given in to homesickness. Steelinghimself, he tried hard now to sing along normally with the final hymn, not wanting anyone to see his upset.
    He lowered his head a little as though in reverence, and discreetly wiped his eyes. He glanced around the church, anxious that Grace shouldn’t see him looking teary-eyed.
    He had met her a couple of times since the day she had shared the jam slice, and the more he got to know her the more he liked her. Somehow she seemed to combine a no-nonsense manner with a real sense of fun. He had also started to be accepted in the schoolyard as a good footballer, so it wasn’t as though he wasn’t settling in to life in Dublin. But for whatever reason he had suddenly missed his mum and dad. It was the kind of thing that Grace might actually understand, but still, he didn’t want a girl to see him looking upset.
    Barry looked across the aisle to where he had earlier spotted Grace’s granddad and her uncle Freddie. He didn’t see Grace and her mother, however, and as the congregation finished the hymn people genuflected and began to make for the exit doors of the church.
    Barry and Grandma followed the crowd, and Barry hoped that they could avoid the Ryans today. Grace’s granddad was nice enough, but her uncle Freddie was what Irish people called an eejit, and Barry definitely wasn’t in the humour for him this morning. Barry reached the door and stepped out into the fresh morning air. He was descending the steps with his grandmother when he heard his name being called.
    ‘Mr Malone.’
    There was only one person who ever called him that, and Barry looked around, a little startled to see Mr Pawlek approaching across the gravelled area in front of the church. But then most Poles were Catholics, so perhaps it wasn’t that surprising to see the drill teacher at Mass.
    He approached now, smiled at Barry and said, ‘Good morning.’
    ‘Good morning, sir.’
    Mr Pawlek turned to Grandma and bowed formally, then held out his hand.
    ‘Karl Pawlek, Madame.’
    ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Pawlek,’ answered Grandma shaking hands. ‘Peg Malone, Barry’s grandmother. I’ve heard a lot about you.’
    Mr Pawlek tilted his head a little playfully. ‘Really? Not all bad, I hope?’
    ‘No, no, no – nothing but good!’
    ‘How flattering,’ said the teacher with a grin. ‘If only all my pupils were like Barry.’
    ‘Oh now…’ said Grandma with a high-pitched little laugh.
    She beamed with pleasure, but Barry felt uncomfortable. Obviously he didn’t look red-eyed, which was good. But it was embarrassing to be discussed like this, and he felt vaguely unsettled with how readily Grandma was responding to Mr Pawlek’s charm.
    ‘He’s doing well at school. Very good at maths, according to his master,’ said the Pole.
    Barry hadn’t realised that his master, Mr O’Brien, had been discussing him with the drill teacher.
    ‘Takes after my Derek, if I say so myself,’ said Grandma proudly.
    ‘Ah yes, your son in the navy. He’s doing well, I’m sure.’
    ‘Oh yes, he’s a Petty Officer now.’
    ‘Really? You must miss him – so far away.’
    ‘Yes,’ answered Grandma, ‘but he’s good at writing. Sent me a lovely picture of Gibraltar for my birthday.’
    Mr Pawlek raised an eyebrow. ‘Gibraltar? That must be an interesting spot to be based.’
    ‘Yes, though of course he’s not really supposed to say where he is.’
    ‘No, of course. Nice though that he’s in touch.’
    ‘Derek was always a good lad,’ said Grandma.
    ‘And Barry tells me his mother is working hard in Liverpool,’ said Mr Pawlek.
    ‘Ellen is a great girl.’
    ‘Let’s hope she