[Kevin Crossley-Holland recounts his earliest memories] 

My fourth memory is the most detailed.  It took place in London later in the same year [when he was three years old], during a German air raid. 

I am a page at the wedding of my godmother, and I’m wearing gold satin trousers. 

[…] 

At the reception, I remember trotting around, offering guests pieces of wedding cake, and then sitting spellbound in front of the accordionist. 

Somewhere outside, there is a loud bang (a V-I or doodlebug).  The accordionist stops playing, the wedding party freezes.  It was as if we were at a children’s birthday party, playing statues, in which the first person to move is the loser.  How long did everyone hold their breath?  No more than two or three seconds, I suppose; but in my memory for ever.  Now the accordion breathes again; it sings in the afterblast and the festivities resume, no doubt tempered and chastened.