‘Yes, Sam mentioned it once,’ Glenys said, feeling a little awkward. ‘You don’t mind? My being in Grace’s room, I mean.’

Nain smiled fondly at her. ‘Mind? My dear, you’ve been like a daughter to me, and if you had ever known Grace you would know that she was not only pretty but generous and sweet-natured as well.’ She got to her feet and crossed the room to her dressing table, picking up a photograph in a silver frame and handing it to Glenys. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen a photograph of our girl. She was only sixteen when this was taken, and I dare say life changed her a little, but not very much.’

Glenys took the photograph and stared down into the lovely oval face. ‘She’s not just pretty, she’s beautiful,’ Glenys said softly. ‘And . . . yes, there is a striking likeness to Mo. No wonder Sam found it so painful.’

‘I must tell you, my dear, that you and Grace would have loved one another like sisters, because in some ways you’re very alike,’ Nain said softly. ‘You’ve been so good to my grandchildren, to say nothing of how good you have been with Taid and me, and then there’s Sam; you get on so well together and he’s not always an easy man, as you know. But you’ve tamed the dragon. Oh, I know you’ve had your disagreements, but there has been no hint of bitterness, and believe me, Taid and I are grateful for that. You love the farm, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ Glenys acknowledged, then added gently: ‘But you mustn’t think I’m trying to take Grace’s place.’

‘My daughter was a wonderful girl,’ Nain said. ‘But she wasn’t strong, and farm work . . .’

She might have said more, but at that moment Taid called up the stairs. ‘Would you like a mug of hot milk by your bed, Myfanwy?’

‘Yes please, Gethin,’ his wife called back. ‘One teaspoon of sugar, remember.’

‘I’ll get it and bring it up to you on my way to my own bed,’ Glenys said tactfully. She could just imagine how much milk would be left in the mug if Taid attempted to carry it upstairs. ‘Good night, dear Nain. Do you realise how rarely I’ve heard you and Taid using each other’s proper names? Myfanwy; how pretty that sounds!’

Nain chuckled. ‘Go on with you,’ she said affectionately. ‘Goodnight, cariad.’

The next day dawned as fair as the previous one. Nain always prepared and served a cooked breakfast on Sundays, not just porridge but bacon and eggs with plenty of crisp toast and marmalade to follow, but today, Taid announced, when they were all gathered round the kitchen table, would be anything but a normal Sunday in other ways.

‘Mr Chamberlain is going to tell us how Hitler has responded to our ultimatum that his troops get out of Poland or put themselves on a war footing with Great Britain,’ he reminded them. ‘I know we’ve all refused to let the thought of war affect our lives but this announcement is too important to miss, so I’ve told Pete the Sheep and the families who rent the other two cottages that they can come and listen with us.’