New Beginnings

By Carole McEntee-Taylor

A One Way Ticket

Book 1

New Beginnings

Inspired by the true story of Bill Young, A One Way Ticket is a four book series mixing fact and fiction. Photos are included in every book and Bill’s true story is at the end of book 4, Journey’s End.

Bill Young is caught in a police trap while trying to rob a jewellers shop in Douglas, The Isle of Man and given a choice of approved school or the Armed Forces. After joining the Royal Navy he finds himself protecting convoys in the Atlantic before being sent to the Mediterranean. But bad luck seems to follow him and he begins to wonder if he is jinxed.

Tilly Weber had always craved excitement although murder was not part of the plan. But the world is rapidly changing and Tilly finds herself in the forefront of the fight against the Nazis. However, Tilly is torn between duty and family. Her sister Dot was evacuated at the beginning of the war and has gone missing.

Jacob Goldsmith has gone to Berlin to rescue his cousin Sura and her family. But is he too late? As Jacob is drawn into the dangerous world of intelligence, his life will never be the same again.

Bill’s sister Nora gets a job at the internment camps on the island and meets Tilly who recruits her to act as go between and give Jacob any information she finds out. They discover a Nazi plot to kidnap the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret, but will they be in time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carole McEntee-Taylor
• Release date: Feb 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005731854

Carole McEntee-Taylor

I write military history, historical fiction and memoirs and sometimes a mixture of all three. I am also a ghost writer of novels and memoirs.My non fiction, published by by Pen and Sword Books Ltd, include Herbert Columbine VC, Surviving the Nazi Onslaught, A Battle Too Far, Military Detention Colchester from 1947, The Battle of Bellewaarde June 1915, From Colonial Warrior to Western Front Flyer, The History of Coalhouse Fort and A History of Women’s Lives in Scunthorpe.I have also written a biography of John Doubleday to be included in his book: The Work and published The Weekend Trippers and My War and Peace myself. I am always on the look out for new military memoirs to publish. If you would like to know more please visit my website.My spiritual books are The Re-Enlightenment and The Holiday From Hell.My fiction includeSecrets ( a book of six short stories)Lives Apart: A WW2 Chronicle - a five book series inspired by the true story of my in-laws.Obsession - a five book series inspired by the true story of the missing POWs at the end of WW2.Betrayed - a stand alone murder mystery set in WW2 Germany and Palestine.Secret Lives - a six book series set before and during WW1.A One Way Ticket - a four book series inspired by the true story of Bill Young through WW2 and beyond.

Book preview

Part 1

1938

Chapter 1

Douglas, Isle of Man

Bill Young double checked that Strand Street was deserted and exchanged glances with his best friend Alan Finch, before bending down, reaching through the letter box and up towards the lock of the newsagents. Within seconds he’d opened the door and the pair had slipped quietly inside. They waited a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the darkness and then Bill moved quickly towards the counter and to the shelves behind.

Alan waited by the door, his eyes nervously scanning the street for any sign of the constables who had begun patrolling regularly, but all was quiet. Bill hurriedly piled the cigarettes and tobacco from the shelves into the canvas bag he’d bought with him, specifically for that purpose. The task took barely three minutes, and then they were out and walking quickly away. The street was still deserted so they gradually slowed their pace and Bill began automatically checking the doors of the other shops as they passed.

‘I think we should make the most of what we’ve got and get the hell out of here.’ Alan’s heart rate had finally returned to a normal pace, but he still felt uncomfortable for some reason. He checked behind him again, convinced he could feel someone’s eyes on his back, but there was no one there. ‘Nora will be waiting; she’ll wonder where we are.’

Bill ignored him and carried on trying the doors. ‘She’ll wait. She’ll do anything for you.’ He winked at Alan who flushed.

‘You know I’d never do anything to hurt Nora…’ Alan fell silent, wishing he had the confidence to tell Bill how he felt about his younger sister. If only she was older… Just thinking about her made him feel hot. Alan suddenly realised Bill was talking, so he pushed his lustful thoughts away. ‘Sorry?’

‘I said you never know what we might find…’ Bill glanced across at Alan and grinned. ‘Not scared, are you?’

Alan sighed and shook his head. ‘’course not.’ Not that he’d tell Bill if he was. His friend was fearless, never worrying about being caught, always sure he would be able to either talk himself out of trouble or that something or someone would come along to rescue him. Alan, on the other hand, was terrified of getting arrested again. This time they wouldn’t just get a slap on the wrist. But he couldn’t tell Bill that. His friend would never understand. He took a breath. ‘I just think we’re pushing our luck, that’s all.’

Bill shrugged. ‘You worry too much…’ He tried another door and grinned. ‘Well, what do you know? This one’s unlocked!’ He stopped abruptly in front of the jewellers and hesitated. Why on earth would the jewellers be unlocked? Then he shrugged his doubts away. It was too good an opportunity to miss. ‘Wait here, keep an eye out.’ Before Alan could object, Bill handed him the bag containing the stolen cigarettes and stepped through the door. Alan cursed under his breath and then checked the street again. There was still no one about but he felt uneasy. He was still pondering why anyone would leave a jewellers’ shop unlocked when he heard sounds of a scuffle inside and the next moment Bill reappeared, followed closely by a burly policeman holding tight to his left arm. Bill was struggling wildly, but he was no match for the policeman, who was much heavier than Bill’s wiry build and a good six inches taller.

Alan turned to run but he had left it too late. Another two constables had appeared in front of him and one grabbed his arm, twisting it up behind his back until he winced, and shoved him against the shop window.

‘Well, well, what have we here, boys? What’s in the bag?’ The other policeman pulled the bag off Alan’s shoulder and looked inside. He shook his head. ‘Tut, tut, tut…’ He turned to Bill. ‘You’re getting careless Young. Didn’t it occur to you to wonder why the door was unlocked?’

Bill didn’t answer. He had been asking himself the same question repeatedly from the minute the constable had grabbed him. He peered past the policeman and breathed a sigh of relief. At least they didn’t appear to have arrested Nora.

‘Bill Young I am arresting you…’ Bill tuned out. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t heard it all before. The courts had been lenient up until the last few months but had then pronounced a crackdown. This time he wouldn’t be bound over or be given a fine. This time he would end up in an Approved School. Providing his dad didn’t kill him first of course.

*******

London

Ten year old Dot Weber pulled the bed covers round her more tightly and wished she could sleep. She could still feel the bruises of her father’s latest drunken rage and she shuddered to think what he would do to Tilly when she came in. Her older sister would have been attacked too if she hadn’t been missing, having crept out through the bedroom window of the narrow terraced house earlier, the same as she did almost every other night. Only normally her father wasn’t at home to notice, he was either at work or down the pub, drinking with his mates and, when he finally rolled in, he was too drunk to do anything other than fall into bed. Unfortunately, tonight there had been some mix up with his wages, so he’d been unable to have a drink in the pub before work. Instead, he’d come home before starting his night shift and taken out his fury on her mother. Georg Weber had drunk the remains of the whisky her mother had been saving for herself and an almighty row had broken out. She had heard them fighting, yelling in German and English, her father always reverting to his native tongue when he was drunk, the noise of furniture being knocked over, her mother’s screams, sounds of struggle and then a brief silence before her father’s footsteps heavy on the stairs. Dot had shrunk back further into the bed wishing it would swallow her up. The door swung open and then he was standing in the door frame, a massive man with a bulbous nose and red blotched face, thinning greasy hair and a scowl. He peered into the room, his scowl deepening as he realised Tilly’s bed was empty.

His roar filled the room and he stumbled towards her sister’s bed and pulled back the covers. ‘Where the hell’s Tilly?’

Dot shrank even further back, fear rendering her unable to answer. Furious that she wasn’t answering he stepped the short distance to her bed and pulled the sheets off. ‘I asked you a question you stupid little bitch. Where’s your sister?’

Dot shook her head. ‘I… I don’t kn..kn..know.’ Her stammer only infuriated him even more. He reached down and grabbed her arms, pulling her out of the bed effortlessly and shook her like a rag doll. Dot could no longer hold back her tears and began crying uncontrollably. It was too much for Georg who lost his temper completely. He threw her back on the bed and began hitting her. Dot tried to remember what Tilly had said, about covering her face and not letting their father see her fear, but it was hard when she was so terrified and in so much pain.

*******

Halford Manor, Outside Warrington

Lord Westbrook, Clive Ellis, puffed contentedly on his large cigar, settled back further into his expensive leather armchair and gave a self-satisfied smile. It looked like he might have managed to save the day after all. After months of worrying about the future and about whether he was going to lose his family home, a solution was in sight. He wondered briefly what his ancestors would have thought about the bargain he was about to make and then shrugged his thoughts away. He glanced around the room, the air filled with cigar smoke and expensive cognac, his guests standing in small groups making plans for the future. The study was his favourite room, the oak beams, parquet flooring and panelled walls providing the stunning backdrop to his expensive leather furniture and the magnificent 17th Century walnut escritoire, which like the house had been in the family for several generations.

‘It is a very beautiful room Lord Westbrook.’ The tall, blonde-haired German was towering in front of him and he nodded his head slightly and forced himself to smile. Heinz Kessel was a Major in the Abwehr and Clive had taken an instant dislike to the man the moment he had arrived, but he’d been careful not to show it. Heinz was the answer to his problems so it would not do to antagonise him. Clive wouldn’t admit to himself that Kessel scared him, but deep down he knew the German was dangerous.

‘Thank you, Herr Kessel, its very kind of you to say.’

Heinz sat down in the chair nearest to Clive and leaned towards him. ‘The first of my people will arrive in the next couple of weeks. You will make the arrangements as we agreed.’

Clive nodded. ‘Yes, I know exactly where to place them. You don’t need to worry.’

‘Good, I would hate anything to go wrong.’ Heinz held the Englishman’s eyes for several seconds until Clive cleared his throat, looked away and puffed on his foul-smelling cigar again. Kessel didn’t really trust Ellis, but it didn’t matter. Once the Englishman had placed the agents he was sending over, Heinz would have Lord Westbrook exactly where he wanted him.

*******

Douglas, Isle of Man

Nora Young stood at the end of the main shopping street and peered anxiously down the row of silent businesses. They should have been back by now. Her thoughts drifted to Alan and she immediately felt the familiar warmth in the pit of her stomach. Alan was so handsome, taller than her brother with blonde hair, blue eyes and a lovely smile. Nora hugged herself and wished he would take some notice of her. She was only a couple of years younger than him, two years that would be nothing if they were older. But at seventeen and fifteen those two years seemed like a massive yawning chasm. Nora frowned and let out a heavy sigh. She had only agreed to act as lookout because of Alan. Perhaps she should walk towards the direction they had gone in…

Nora stepped forward, caught a glimpse of her reflection in the shop window, stopped and automatically checked her appearance. Maybe Alan would finally notice her tonight. She leaned forward and eyed her reflection critically, trying to see herself as Alan might. The image that stared back at her showed an attractive girl, tall for her age, slim and athletic with dark curly hair and brown eyes. Nora sighed. If she was a man, she would find her appearance attractive so why didn’t Alan? Maybe Alan was afraid of Bill. Her brother was unpredictable at the best of times, impulsive, intelligent, easily bored and invariably in trouble. She had lost count of the times he’d been arrested, yet still he went back for more. It wasn’t as if he made much money from his petty thefts, in fact she was half convinced Bill only kept thieving because he enjoyed the excitement. But Alan wasn’t like that. He was the perfect foil for her brother, calm, measured and thoughtful. A wry smile crossed her face. No one could ever accuse her brother of being thoughtful. Bill had often made her childhood a misery, throwing her dolls on the fire, trapping their cat’s head in the window because it had killed his pigeons, teasing her relentlessly, putting her friend’s pigtails in the ink wells at school, but conversely, he’d also been her best friend. When she’d been bullied at school it was Bill she had confided in and Bill who had sorted it out.

A police whistle sounded in the distance, running footsteps echoed on the cobbled streets and she gasped, her hand over her mouth, her appearance forgotten. Oh God, please don’t let them have been arrested.

*******

Warrington

Clarissa White, known to her numerous fans as Desiree, finished her last song, took several curtain calls and left the stage, the enthusiastic applause following her as she headed back to the dressing room.

‘Another good evening Miss.’ Fred Hartly smiled broadly.

Clarissa treated him to a beaming smile. ‘Yes, it was. Thanks Fred. I’ll have a rest and get ready for the late performance. Any notes for me?’

Fred shook his head. ‘No, sorry Miss.’ He sighed. He had been the doorman at the Rainbow Theatre for several years but none of the girls had been as dear to him as Clarissa. He hoped Lord Westbrook wasn’t messing her about. She was so sweet, and her voice was like a nightingale, clear and soulful, made your heart sing, no wonder his Lordship had fallen in love with her. Fred’s face darkened. Unfortunately, there was no future in it for Clarissa. Perhaps it would be best if Lord Westbrook dropped her now rather than hurt her even more. Fred was still thinking about that when the telephone rang.

‘Rainbow Theatre.’

‘Good evening Fred, Its Lord Westbrook here, has Desiree finished yet?’

Fred sighed. ‘Yes sir, just come off. Did you want me to fetch her?’

‘No, it’s alright, can you tell her I’ll pick her up after her last performance?’

‘Yes sir.’ The phone went dead, Fred replaced the receiver and slowly headed towards Clarissa’s dressing room.

*******

Douglas, Isle of Man

Nora hesitated. Should she run towards the sound or away from it? Common sense finally overrode her desire to make sure Alan and Bill were alright and she turned away and headed home. If the police whistle had nothing to do with them, they would come back to the house anyway, and she would explain why she had fled. But if they had been arrested there was no point hanging around and waiting for the same thing to happen to her. As she hurried home her heart was thudding against her ribs and she felt sick. If they had been arrested there would be hell to pay. Her father had said he would throw Bill out if he got into any more trouble. Not that he would probably have a chance as the authorities would lock her brother up this time, and Alan? They would do the same to him and she would never have the chance to feel his arms around her, his lips on hers, his body close... Nora angrily blinked away the tears that were threatening to form and sniffed noisily. This was all Bill’s fault. If Alan was sent away she would never forgive her brother for ruining her life.

Nora finally reached the house on Demesne Road and hurriedly let herself in. The house was silent, her parents asleep as she crept cautiously up the stairs to her bedroom. She undressed quickly, lay down on the bed and stared at the bedside clock, her heart still beating erratically. As the night wore on, she gradually realised that she was waiting in vain. Bill wasn’t coming home, not tonight.

*******

Halford Manor, outside Warrington

Clive replaced the receiver and wandered back into the living room. The party was in full swing now and he tried to enjoy himself. The butler bought him another drink and he took a large gulp of the cognac and tried to ignore his conscience. It wasn’t as if there was going to be a war between their two countries, so he wasn’t really a traitor. Chamberlain had bought peace by selling Czechoslovakia to the Nazis. It was unfortunate for the Czechs, but at least the Prime Minister had successfully averted war. For a moment Clive thought about the rise in armaments and the preparations for war that had increased despite Chamberlain’s ‘Peace in our time’ announcement the previous month, and then shrugged it away. The Germans weren’t their enemies; the country was in more danger from the Communists, although no one seemed to be doing anything about them. Socialism was creeping in everywhere; trades unions were increasing and there were always strikes about something or other. If the country wasn’t careful, they would go the way of Russia, a revolution led by scum, execution of the Royal Family, and family estates like his taken away and given to lazy peasants. At least the Nazis were doing something about the threat on their eastern border. Poor old Mosely had been vilified for trying to protect the British way of life, but he wasn’t the only one who supported the Nazis. Plenty of Clive’s friends also admired the Germans and the way Hitler had turned around the economy and the country. Britain could learn a few lessons from Hitler, no unions over there demanding more money and better conditions. Their young people were fit, healthy and patriotic, the women happy to stay at home and look after the family. Clive downed the rest of his drink and allowed his thoughts to stray briefly to Desiree. A half smile formed on his lips as he thought about the last time he’d seen her, singing and dancing on the stage, captivating, mesmerising… ‘Sorry, I missed that?’ Clive realised Heinz had been talking.

‘I was just saying how good it is for us to be friends. The last thing we Germans want is war with England. We are too much alike.’

Clive was slightly unnerved that the man had read his mind, but he forced himself to smile back. ‘Exactly my thoughts old man. We could learn a thing or two from your Fuhrer, the way he won’t stand any nonsense from the Commies.’

Heinz allowed himself a small smile. He had read Lord Westbrook correctly. The man was terrified of the communists as were many of his aristocratic friends. Ribbentrop was correct in his assessment of the English upper class. Most would be against any war with his country. The important thing was to make sure they continued to think that way, that they weren’t swayed by that Jew loving, war mongering Churchill. Fortunately, he was still considered a maverick and most people in Britain didn’t take any notice of his ramblings. The British people were wary of getting involved in another war after the carnage of the last time, and that was what the Fuhrer was banking on. But there was no point taking chances and that was why he and his colleagues were there, to ensure that the ruling class continued to prevent Britain going to war. That way the Fuhrer could concentrate on exterminating the communist and Slavic menace and ridding the country of Jews and other inferior beings. Heinz’ mouth curled lightly in distaste as he thought about the Untermensch, the reason his country had lost the war, but not again. They would now pay the price for their treachery. The Germans were far superior to the other races and it wouldn’t take them too long to defeat their enemies in the east, providing they didn’t end up having to fight a war on two fronts. And if that catastrophe did happen? Heinz had made provision for that too. There would still be hope because part of his reason for being here was to cover every eventuality, to plan for the future. As the Fuhrer repeatedly stated: the Third Reich would last a thousand years, and Heinz had every intention of making sure this prediction came true.

Heinz finished his cognac and turned his attention to their historic enemy. Despite their agreement to come to Poland’s aid if Germany attacked them, France wasn’t much of a threat. Their politicians were too busy in-fighting, and their military preparations were primarily defensive. Britain too had made the same promise, but the Fuhrer couldn’t really see them declaring war to help the Poles. Heinz was sure his leader was right, and having spent some time in Britain, he was even more convinced there was no need to worry. The British might talk about war, but that was all they would do, especially as the ruling class would be completely compromised by the time Germany was ready to make its move. Of course, he had not managed to persuade all of them, but that didn’t really matter. As for the King and Queen, if they interfered too much, they would be replaced with the former king, Edward VIII and his American wife. That would be even better because it would stop the Americans becoming involved, not that there was much of a realistic chance of that. The America First organisation was doing an excellent job in persuading the population that they didn’t want to get involved in any more of Europe’s wars. He frowned. They were much more effective than Mosely’s Blackshirts. It wasn’t that his colleagues in the US were better at their jobs, just that the American people were easier to persuade, especially as there was a large German population they could utilise.

Clive glanced at the clock and wondered how much longer his guests would stay. Now he had resolved his financial problems he just wanted them to leave. Apart from being impatient to see Clarissa, he was bored making small talk and there was also a danger that if they didn’t leave soon, he might let his dislike show.

Chapter 2

London

‘Tilly! Tilly! You’ll be late if you don’t get a move on.’ Gladys Weber dried her hands on her apron and shouted up the narrow stairs, the exasperation clear in her voice.

Matilda Weber, known to all as Tilly, pulled the covers over her head and groaned. All she wanted was to go back to sleep. It had been very late when she’d crept in through the bedroom window, taking care not to wake her little sister who had been snoring in the other bed. Thank goodness for the large ash tree that provided the perfect ladder for her nocturnal activities.

‘I’m not going to call you again!’ Gladys’ voice carried up the stairs and Tilly put her hand over her ears.

‘Tilly, it’s nearly seven o’clock…’ Dot whispered loudly in her sister’s ear. She wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with Tilly and have her sister cuddle her, but if Tilly was late for work, she would be in trouble.

Tilly jumped. ‘What?’ She opened her eyes and peered blearily at the bedside clock. ‘Crikey O’Reilly!’ She leapt out of bed, nearly knocking Dot flying and tried to ignore the stabbing pain behind her right eye. She really couldn’t afford to lose this job; her mother would kill her and as for her father…

The door crashed open and Gladys stood glaring at her, arms folded across her ample bosom. Tilly noted the black eye and cut lip but decided it would be safer not to mention it.

‘I’m up Mum, look…’

‘Mmm…’ Gladys snorted. ‘Well get going. Your Dad will be home soon, and he won’t be best pleased to see you still here.’

Tilly pushed past her to the large, cracked sink without answering. Her father had a short fuse at the best of times, but after a night shift on the docks he was never happy, mainly because he couldn’t have a skinful in the pub before coming home. The room was cold, but Tilly barely noticed. She washed quickly in the cold water and hurried back to her side of the bedroom where she pulled on her clothes.

Dot watched her older sister, her young face expressionless. She had heard Tilly creep in early that morning even though she’d pretended to be asleep. She loved Tilly and would never tell on her, but she wished her sister didn’t take silly risks. Surely, whatever Tilly was doing out so late was not worth the leathering she’d get if their father caught her. Dot sighed, her bottom lip trembling. She had to warn Tilly that her father knew she hadn’t been in bed last night, but that would mean telling her how their father had beaten her, and she couldn’t do that. Dot tried not to remember the strange expression on Tilly’s face the last time their father had hit her. She had been so scared that Tilly was going to do something to her father. Then she realised she was too late anyway. Tilly was about to leave, she would have to wait until later.

Tilly finished dressing, put on some lipstick, and blew Dot a kiss. ‘Bye darling, have a good day at school.’ She didn’t wait for a reply, instead hurtling down the stairs, into the kitchen, through the back door and into the outside privy. The toilet was even colder than the bedroom, but Tilly was used to that and her thoughts were on other things. She finished, wiped herself on the abrasive Izal toilet paper and pulled the chain. While the water was filling, she bent down, reached behind the toilet to the bricks and removed a couple about three rows from the bottom. In the small space was a box which she pulled out and opened. There was just time to take a quick look at last night’s takings. She smiled as she stared down at the roll of notes squashed into the corner and the exquisite gold bracelet shining in the early morning light coming through the gap between the top of the door and the roof, then sighing gently she closed the box and replaced it. If only she could do this all the time instead of having to work in an office typing and taking shorthand from lecherous employers.

She checked the bricks were back in place, opened the door and walked straight into her father.

‘You’re late!’ Georg glared at her. His German accent was always stronger when he was angry.

‘Just going Dad.’ Tilly made to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm and peered into her eyes. You been out drinking last night?’ He had reverted to German now and Tilly answered him in the same language. She was fluent in English and German, having grown up with both.

Tilly shook her head. ‘No Dad, just overslept.’

Georg snorted and tightened his grip. Tilly winced but didn’t say anything. She knew from experience that if he thought he was hurting her he would squeeze harder. She glared back at him.

‘If you don’t let me go, I will be late!’

Georg’s mouth tightened but the grip on her arm loosened slightly. Tilly took the opportunity and this time she managed to wriggle free and hurry down the path to the alleyway and disappeared.

Georg stared after her, fury on his face. How dare she lie to him? She had more cheek than… Georg couldn’t think of a comparison in either German or English which annoyed him even more and he kicked the garden gate hard in frustration. He would have to teach her a lesson again.

Tilly reached the main road and slowed down. Her heart was pounding, and her forehead was glistening with sweat, but her blue eyes were cold as ice. One of these days her father would go too far.

*******

Douglas, Isle of Man

‘For fuck’s sake Bill what the hell’s the matter with you?’ Joseph Young stood by the window of the small semi-detached house and stared out at the street; his fists clenched in an attempt to prevent himself hitting his son.

Bill didn’t answer. Whatever he said would be wrong, and in any case, he couldn’t explain his reckless behaviour to himself, let alone to his father.

Joseph spun around and glared at him. ‘You do know they’ll send you to an Approved School this time.’ He didn’t wait for an answer. His anger, always quick to build, was subsiding now and he was more concerned than angry. ‘You’re an intelligent lad and I don’t understand why you keep behaving like this. You’ll end up spending the rest of your life in prison if you carry on like this. Is that what you want?’

Bill shook his head. ‘No… no it isn’t.’

‘Then why do you keep doing it?’ Joseph slammed his fist on the back of the chair.

Bill jumped and then shrugged. He finally looked his father in the face. ‘I don’t know.’ He muttered.

Joseph stared at him in exasperation, wondering if there was anything he could do to change the path his son was on, or whether it was already too late. ‘You’d better go to work or you’ll lose your job on the farm. It will look better in court if you are working.’ Even as he spoke Joseph doubted it was true. Bill had been in trouble too many times now. He watched his son leave the room and let out a heavy sigh.

‘Why does he keep getting into trouble Joe? Is it something we’ve done?’ Mary had been listening outside the door. ‘Perhaps we should have stayed in Manchester?’

Joseph shook his head. ‘I doubt where we live has anything to do with his behaviour Mary. He’d probably be worse if we were still living in Manchester, there would be even more temptation to get into trouble.’

‘He’s like you were, isn’t he?’ Mary smiled at him. ‘I remember you being a bit of handful when we first met.’

Joseph gave a wry smile back. ‘I was more careful though. I didn’t keep getting caught.’ He thought for a moment. ‘But you’ve got a point. The army sorted me out.’

Mary looked horrified. ‘God forbid we have another war Joe.’

‘No.’ Joseph hastened to reassure her. He reached out his hand and took hers. ‘I didn’t mean that love. I was thinking that maybe a spell in the forces might sort Bill out too.’

‘But it’s too late isn’t it? They’ll just send him to one of those awful schools, won’t they?’

‘I don’t know, but it’s worth a try. I’ll call in and see Mr Barlow, the probation officer. Maybe if we can suggest it the magistrate will agree.’

Mary’s face lit up momentarily and then she frowned. Her son was also stubborn like his father. ‘What if Bill refuses to go in the Forces?’

Joseph’s face darkened. ‘If we can get the Magistrate to agree, Bill will do as he’s bloody well told.’

Chapter 3

Berlin, Germany

Sura Goldstein sat at her dressing table and stared at herself in the mirror. Did she really look that Jewish? Dark soulful eyes stared back at her, her long black hair framing an oval face with even features. Suddenly unable to bear the sadness reflected in her eyes she turned away and tried to blink back the tears.

The Nazis had only been in power for just over six years, but the changes to Sura’s life had been so extensive that she could barely remember a time before them. Life was so dreary and frightening now she hated waking up, dreading what new laws would be brought in to restrict their lives even more. Yet still her father refused to accept the evidence of his own experience. If only her mother wasn’t ill Sura was sure she could have persuaded him to leave, to go to England where his brother was. But Yael was a shadow of her former self. She rarely left her bed these days and if she did, she didn’t seem to have any idea of what was going on. Yael appeared to have become stuck in the past, in a time where she was happy and although Sura was frequently frustrated by this, there were times she envied her mother’s ability to shut off the present and pretend it wasn’t happening. That was exactly what her father was doing, but he wasn’t ill which was why she found him so frustrating.

Sura closed her eyes and concentrated her thoughts on the past. For a moment she could see the large spacious house, her bright carpeted bedroom filled with sunshine and a collection of beautiful dolls scattered around the room on various shelves, dotted amongst children’s books. She could hear herself laughing and a sense of well-being filled her, briefly replacing the dull sadness of her everyday life. Outside the window she could see a neatly kept garden filled with plants, her father climbing into his expensive car and going off to the university as he did every morning, an important man that people in the wide tree lined avenue looked up to. She could even remember days spent with her happy, smiling mother while she bought clothes and food in the most expensive shops in Berlin. For a few moments Sura allowed herself to bask in her memories, then she opened her eyes and reality intruded.

She stared gloomily around the pokey bedroom that barely had enough space for a bed, dressing table and wardrobe. Outside the grimy window there was only the narrow street and the other small houses opposite, just like the one they were now forced to rent at an exorbitant price. The door slammed shut and she stood up and looked out of the window. Her father was going to work. She knew he’d been lucky to find anything, Aryans were no longer allowed to employ Jews, even if they wanted to which they didn’t. But for a university professor to be reduced to digging vegetables for a fellow Jew just to put food on the table now their savings had finally run out, must have been heart wrenching for her proud father. Not that he ever complained. Perhaps that was the problem. If only he had railed against the regime, cursed them, blamed them for her mother’s breakdown instead of meekly accepting their fate, she would have had more respect for him. But she was sixteen now, no longer the child who thought her father was a god. Somewhere deep inside she recognised that the reason her father was behaving like nothing had changed was because he was scared. He had to cling to the belief that this would soon be over and then he could resume his former life because he didn’t know what else to do. If only she was older, or had been born a boy, she would have been able to stand up to him, but she wasn’t.

Sura sighed and stood up. Time she left too or she would be late for the part time job she had working for a Jewish doctor whose only patients were other Jews. They would run out of money soon and then Doctor Steiner would not be able to pay her anymore, but at the moment he paid her quite well. Sura put some money away each week, convinced that she might need it in the future, although she didn’t know why.

She glanced at the clock and reached for her worn