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It instilled in the boy a love of dogs which would remain with him for the rest of his life.
    Will was proud of his large bushy moustache that reminded Tom of a neat thatched roof as it formed a half circle over his top lip. He was fascinated as he watched him eat his supper of bread and milk every evening and wondered why more of the bread and milk did not stick to those thick whiskers.
    ‘Hush boy,’ Will would say in an impatient tone. ‘I’ve got the wireless on now and I want to hear the news.’ Tom sat on an old three-legged stool by his feet, the dog curled up between them, and attempted to be as silent as a church mouse. He was happy.
    Alicia’s hair was long and dark with odd red glints though now exhibiting flecks of grey. A rounded and motherly figure she emitted a feeling of security to Tom. He never heard a grumble or cross word pass her lips. Will too was kind and gentle. Most of his early life had been spent as a shepherd and skilful farmhand working for a local landowner but his illness had forced him to retire. Many fellow workers and local farmers brought him beer or other produce in exchange for a chat and advice about their lambs. Tom listened, entranced, to the tales about the old villagers, the horrors of workhouses and the depression, and to the news about the war and the local boys who were in the forces.
    When Tom’s father was killed during the D-Day landings Alicia once again consoled the child. Tom vowed that he would never forget her or Will and would always be grateful for their kindness. He promised himself with naive childish resolve that one day he would try to repay Alicia and Will for their generosity. It was a promise that would involve him in some unexpected and difficult situations.

Chapter 3
First Wedding 1945
    The church bells rang out loud and clear over the village of Enderly and much of the nearby countryside. Mrs Amelia  Grimms the organist played with enthusiasm, though she  was aware that the organ was in urgent need of repair after the neglect of the war years. She was not too concerned about a few missing notes. A few odd creaks and groans from the pipes was a small price to pay for the joyous music she produced. The music filled the small Norman church with glorious reverberating sound. It was after all a happy uplifting occasion, the wedding of Janet Merryweather and James Anderson, and there had in her opinion been too few of those in recent years. There had been too many memorial services for young village lads who had been lost in combat.
    A group of Enderly villagers waited outside the church with bags bulging with coloured confetti, mostly home-made from small pieces of old Christmas paper decorations chopped into neat pieces. Real confetti was a scarce commodity. Although they were not all close friends of the Merryweather family they looked forward to joining in the festivities. There had been too many drab days during the war; this was a welcome opportunity to celebrate and they were more than ready for it. In any case brides were always worth watching, whoever they might be, especially in a small community like Enderly. They knew that Janet had completed a teacher training course and so was, in their view, a successful young local girl. The Merryweather family had lived in the area for several generations and had earned the respect of the local community.
    Janet’s dress was made from a creamy white parachute silk remnant given to her by a friend who had worked in a parachute factory during the war and it exuded a shimmering pearl-like sheen. Pieces of old Maltese lace, removed from some handkerchiefs that had been in the family for a long time, had been sewn with care around the cuffs and across the bosom. Her fragile hand-made lace veil was edged with slightly chipped artificial waxy orange blossom, and had been worn by her mother Alicia and her grandmother before that. It was fine and delicate as only such a treasured old piece of material can be.
    Tom,