Corporal Batter hurled Eric out of the exit gate as if he were nothing more than a sack of rubbish.

HUMPH!

“AND DON’T COME BACK!” barked Batter as the boy scrambled to his feet.

Eric said nothing. He dashed all the way home. His grandmother would be waking up soon, and she’d be worried about him if she didn’t find him tucked up in bed in the morning.

However, as the boy turned the corner on to the street where he lived, he noticed something strange. So strange that at first he thought he might be having a dream. Or, rather, a nightmare. The little terraced house that he shared with his grandmother just wasn’t there.

Instead, there was a smouldering wreck and a gap in the row of houses. The roof had fallen in, and so had most of the first floor. The ground was a mess of bricks, tiles and furniture.

Was that the old tin bath? Or the armchair? Or the sideboard?

All were upside down and blackened by fire.

A fire engine was at the scene, but the firemen were packing up their hose. There was nothing more that could be done. A crowd of people stood and stared. Some had their arms round each other, some were sobbing, others were muttering words of sadness.

“Poor old Mrs Grout.”

“She’d lived there for fifty years. She didn’t deserve this.”

“It would have all been over in a flash. Boom! She wouldn’t have known what hit her.”

“I curse that Mr Hitler! I would biff him on the nose if I had half a chance!”

“It’s the boy I feel most sorry about.”

“Oh yes, the boy! He’d only just moved in!”

“That’s right! Her grandson, Eric.”

“What was he? Ten? Eleven?”

“Poor little soul. He had his whole life ahead of him.”

“And he’d lost his mummy and daddy too. Unfortunate wretch.”

“They’re all together in heaven now.”

It was only when Eric reached them that he realised they were talking about him. The boy felt the strangest feeling. It was as if he were at his own funeral. They must think he was buried under the rubble of the house with his poor grandmother – which he would have been had he not sneaked out of bed to help Sid at the zoo.

He spotted Grandma’s ear trumpet amongst the rubble.

It had been crushed, like everything else.