Taid spoke up. ‘Farmers have been treated pretty badly by the government in the past, but they’ll need us now,’ he said with some satisfaction. ‘They’ll have to stop bringing in cheap imports from foreign countries when ships have to face U-boats and torpedoes. Workers on the land will be needed more than ever before, though they’ll most be pretty old, I reckon, because young fit men will be needed in the armed forces.’

Nain was frowning. ‘I wonder if they’ll ask us to take any evacuees,’ she said. ‘I’ve been reading a lot about it in the papers – goodness knows I’ve been stuck in the house long enough to have written them myself – and it seems the government intends to get as many children as possible out of the cities, especially the ports, because they think there’ll be heavy bombing raids, as there were in Spain. So they want the kids safely in the country. I suppose if they ask us we’ll have to say yes, but now they’ve revived the Land Army there’s no doubt that a couple of Land Girls would be a lot more useful!’

Smiling at this eminently practical observation, Glenys glanced at the clock above the mantelpiece. Its hands pointed at noon. Sam and Taid, still chatting, went outside to resume their chores, while Jimmy and Mo lingered in the kitchen. ‘What’s for dinner, Auntie Glenys?’ Jimmy asked. ‘I know it’s usually cold on a Sunday, because we go to church for the morning service, but today’s different, isn’t it?’ He looked hopefully from her to Nain. ‘You made some pasties yesterday, didn’t you? I’m rare fond of a pasty.’

Glenys laughed, but shook her head. ‘It’s the usual Sunday lunch: luncheon meat, bread and butter and a salad which Nain made earlier. And don’t tell me that’s no meal for a hard-working man, because I’ve heard it all before.’

Jimmy sniggered. ‘Oh well, it was worth a try,’ he said. He held out a hand to his sister. ‘Come on, Mo; we haven’t finished collecting the eggs. I know we’ve cleared the boxes in the poultry house, but there’s always one of the hens who lays astray; how about coming with me and trying to find her nest?’ He looked up at the clock and then at the table, bare save for a salt and pepper shaker, and heaved a sigh. ‘Or you can help the women to get our dinner if you’d rather,’ he added. Mo shook her head and he started to push her in front of him out of the kitchen, but then he stopped short and turned her round to face him. ‘Why are you crying?’ he asked suspiciously. ‘I didn’t hurt you when I gave you a shove, did I?’

Once more Mo shook her head. ‘No, you didn’t hurt me, but I’s sad,’ she said in a small, choked voice. ‘When Nain and Taid were talking in the kitchen I remembered the Court and all the kids what was our friends . . . oh, Jimmy, I don’t want them to be killed by bombs or U-boats and torpedoes! Some of ’em were real good to us when we lived there; if a bomb fell on Nelly or Nutty I’d be real upset. But you think it’s all a lark, don’t you, Jimmy? Well, it might be a lark for us because we’re in the country already, but it will be real serious for kids what live in the Courts.’