Excerpt:

December of 1940 was the month his parents joined thousands of other parents in sending their children away during the Blitz. He was not-quite-threeWhen he looked back on it, the only two things William could remember of leaving involved people. Not the size of the train station, or packed it was of families sending their children off, much like his parents were. He remembered being bundled in his winter coat, two heavy jumpers underneath, as his mother was uncertain of how cold it was going to be in Coupar Angus, the tiny town they were being sent to. The second thing was his twin sister, Martha, screaming loudly about being allowed to have her third birthday in London.

His parents had waited as long as possible during the Blitz before sending them both away, in an attempt to not miss out on any of those moments of growing up. After a particular scare in which the neighbours flat had been hit, they had relented. But William remembered none of that. He remembered nothing of the long ride from London to Coupar Angus, and nothing of meeting the family he and his sister were to live with for the duration of the war.

In fact, his first memory was that of the vast emptiness of the farm, and how it stretched on and on forever. The only thing he could see on the horizon was another farm, way off in the distance.

"I don't wanna stay!" Martha pouted, looking out at the same expanse.

"I wanna stay forever," William had remembered replying.