Life was tough for Clair, Raising four childeren on her own. She was a strong woman, heart of a lion. She had short dark hair close to black, and bright sea-green eyes. She was tired, The four Kids would ask every day wether father was coming home, and every day, she gave the same heartbraking reply.

  "I don't know, I just don't know." She fought back the tears for her childrens sake, they were so pathetic, it was a gorrible thing to witness, wearing the same clothes, not having enough to eat, she was poor and hardly had enough money to look after herself. She would pray every night for the safety of her husband and for an end to be put to this war.

  One night, She was awoken by her youngest daughter screaming, she sat bolt upright, an eerie orange glow hovering outside the window. The faint sounds of the air raid sirens was floating mournfully in the air.

  "Holy Christ!" Clair screamed, she got out of bed and ran through the landing, tears streaming down her cheeks, and she grabbed her children.

  "Down into the shelter." She ordered.

  "Mummy, I'm Scared," Grace, The youngest, shrieked.

  "Go Now!"

  The children all ran out into the back garden and into the anderson shelter, and waited for their mother, but, she did not come. they screamed as enormous bangs rattled the shelter and shook dirt onto then, huddled, frightened.

  When dawn came, and the children emerged, thy came to the sudden and horriffic realization that Clair, their mother, there only hope of survival, was dead.