Nain had been helping the children to lay the table, but at these words she stopped short and sighed. ‘Oh, I do pray it will be peace,’ she said. ‘Women were not expected to fight in the last war, but I knew girls who nursed sick soldiers in France and had some dreadful tales to tell. We don’t want that again.’

Taid nodded. ‘You’re right, old lady,’ he said. ‘War’s a wicked thing, but it’s up to the strong to protect the weak, and Poland is a little country. The Nazis have already gobbled up Austria and Czechoslovakia and it’s time someone stood up to them, like we did in the last lot.’ He swung round and pointed a finger at Jimmy, who was staring at him, pink-cheeked and starry-eyed. ‘You think it’d be a lark, a bit of fun,’ he said. ‘Well, you’re wrong, but each generation has to make its own mistakes. And now you run down to the cottages and tell them if they want to hear Mr Chamberlain’s speech they’d best be here by a quarter to eleven.’

Jimmy beamed, but then his face fell. ‘Do I have to go before breakfast?’ he asked. ‘Oh, Taid, can’t it wait till after?’

Everyone laughed, and Taid looked up at the big clock over the mantelpiece. ‘After will be fine,’ he said.

Glenys, who had stopped filling their plates to listen, started to dish up once more. She disliked Pete the Sheep, who was now a permanent part-time employee of Weathercock Farm. Nasty, dirty, creepy little man, she thought to herself as she slid eggs on to the warmed plates. The minute he gets into this kitchen he starts hinting that he’s had no breakfast and can smell bacon, or anything else he happens to fancy. I still think Taid might have employed someone else, but he says he couldn’t do that, not with Pete living in one of the farm cottages. If only someone could persuade him to wash from time to time . . .

Sam, making toast in front of the open range, turned and grinned at her. ‘You don’t like Pete, do you?’ he said, reading her mind with uncanny accuracy. ‘There’s nothing wrong with him; he’s just an appetite on legs. Is that why you don’t like him? Because he comes up here when we’re eating and makes everyone feel uncomfortable?’

Glenys turned and smiled at him. ‘How petty you must think me! No, it’s not just his never-ending appetite and his freely expressed opinions.’

Sam returned her smile. ‘It’s the dirt, I suppose,’ he said. ‘He’s got a tin bath in his cottage and the use of the well, so he has every opportunity to clean himself up. I dare say it would do him good to dip his head into a bucket of water occasionally but he’s a darned good sheep man. And if we’re going to expand our flock we shall need his expertise.’

‘Right; then I’ll put up with him,’ Glenys said. ‘And now sit down and have your breakfast before—’