It was 1941, and you were alone in the street because soldiers had captured your parents. You were 16 years old.

You were walking through the streets of London, with bruised clothes, and kicking rubble, you had no money and you were starving. You saw a man, he was getting out of his car and he was well dressed, some money was sticking out of his pocket, you had never been taught that stealing was a good thing but you saw the need.

You walked past the man, bumping shoulders, you said 'excuse me' as you took the money from his pocket, but you didn't even have time to run, as the man was already holding your wrist tightly.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, though seeing that you were merely a teenager he softened his grip, as if in sympathy.