thirty-two
Mr Samuels did not feel the scorching of the sun nor the sweat running down his brow. The sky remained indifferent. A single crow, mouth agape in the heat, eyed him from a nearby tree.
The youth that Mr Samuels then was had only been allowed to wear short trousers.
Mr Samuels Senior found the boy at his desk applying himself to building a small model of a Messerschmitt. The main body was already complete, and one wing was affixed. The shutters were closed against the heat and sun so the boy worked in the pool of his desk lamp.
‘How is the bf109 proceeding?’
‘Well, Father.’
The young Mr Samuels had really wanted a Focke-Wulf 190 but none had been available when he had had enough pocket-money saved up to indulge himself.
Mr Samuels Senior did something he rarely did. He sat
