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her to wait. Anya burrowed into Billy’s neck and started to cry. He tried to comfort her, then caught sight of her mother and sisters standing at the rear of a crowd further along the deck.
    â€˜Hey, over here!’ he yelled, and Anya’s mother whipped round, her face full of joy. She ran to Billy, Anya’s sisters clinging to her skirts.
    Anya leapt out of Billy’s arms and into her mother’s. There was a lot of weeping and wailing and hugging and streams of Polish. Anya’s mother was sobbing with joy to haveher daughter back, although she was obviously surprised to see her in such strange clothes, and at one point Billy was sure she gave Anya a telling-off.
    That would be for getting lost in the first place, Billy realised, and smiled when he thought his own Ma would do the same.
    Then Anya’s mother grabbed Billy and started planting kisses all over his face. Anya was almost crushed between them and George stood back, laughing.
    â€˜You’ve made a friend for life there, so you have, Billy Fleming,’ he said. ‘In fact, if she wasn’t already married, I’d say you were in with a chance.’
    â€˜You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ muttered Billy, trying to push Anya’s mother off. He could feel himself blushing despite the bitter cold. ‘I can’t understand why the blasted woman is making such a fuss of me.’
    â€˜Well, you did just save her daughter’s life,’ said George.
    â€˜Not yet,’ said Billy, freeing himself at last. ‘The job’s only half done. We need to getthem in a lifeboat or we might as well not have bothered.’
    George stopped laughing and that anguished look returned to his face. Anya’s mother sensed the change in mood. She said something to Billy, a single word, then tugged his arm and pointed at the crowd where he had spotted her. She spoke again, saying the same word several times until Billy finally understood – she was trying to say ‘boat’ in English, her accent making it sound Polish.
    Billy let himself be pulled along, nodding at George to follow. Anya’s mother pushed into the crowd, carrying Anya and holding Billy’s hand, and still managing to shepherd her other daughters along in front of her.
    â€˜Hey, who do you think you’re shoving, Mrs?’ said a tetchy voice. A young man had turned to glare at them. His hair was parted in the middle, a thin moustache clung to his top lip, and he wore a sharp suit. But his face was pale and frightened.
    â€˜Back off there, let the women and kiddies through!’ somebody yelled.
    â€˜It’s not
just
women and kiddies, is it?’ said the young man, his tone even more petulant.
    But no one was listening to him, and the crowd parted, allowing Anya’s mother up to the handrail with her children and Billy and George.
    A little further along a section of the handrail was open and a seaman was helping passengers into a lifeboat, the last one on this side of the ship as far as Billy could see. The crowd watched sullenly, and Billy soon realised why. The people getting into the lifeboat were clearly first-class passengers, and those making up the crowd clearly weren’t. Three burly seamen held them back.
    Behind them stood someone Billy recognised. Mr Ismay was obviously in charge, deciding who was allowed in the lifeboat and who wasn’t.
    â€˜First class only in this boat, I’m afraid,’ said one seaman. He held up a hand, but Anya’s mother knocked it aside and unleashed a torrent of Polish at him.
    â€˜Shame on you!’ somebody yelled. ‘Let the kiddies on the lifeboat!’
    â€˜There’s no more room, I tell you, no room,’ the seaman shouted back.
    â€˜You’re lying!’ somebody screamed. ‘There’s space on the benches!’
    Billy looked over the handrail and saw that most of the benches were full. The first-class passengers