However, it was only natural that the war formed the main topic of conversation. Nain was quite frank. ‘Food will be rationed, and it will be the poor who suffer,’ she said. ‘The rich have a way of getting round regulations, which is why I said we should get hold of as many tinned goods as we could.’ She turned to Glenys. ‘You wait and see, my girl; we farmers and tenants will have no choice but to take in evacuees, which is only right and proper, but the folk at the hall and at the bigger houses round about will be making their plans this very minute. They’ll get relatives down from London and Cardiff and other big cities and when the billeting officer comes round they’ll show him that they’ve not a square inch of space left unoccupied. As for food, they’ll pay double price and get produce to which they’re not entitled.’ She chuckled grimly. ‘Oh aye, that’s how they behaved in the last lot and they’ll do the same again, believe me.’

‘Then tomorrow the kids and I will go into town and buy up as many tinned goods as we can afford,’ Glenys said. She grinned ruefully at the older woman. ‘If the townsfolk have left us any, that is! Would anyone like more salad? Sam?’

Sam shook his head and pushed back his chair. ‘No thanks; I don’t fancy rabbit food today for some reason,’ he said. ‘Jimmy, can you and Mo manage the clearing away and washing up, if Glenys and I leave you to it? I’d like to take her for a walk; there are things we need to talk about. Is that all right with you, Nain?’

‘Of course it is. I’ll help the children with the clearing up, and then Taid and I will go up to our room and have a rest on the bed,’ Nain said. ‘It’s been a thoroughly disturbing day and the sooner it’s over the better.’ She sighed. ‘Two wars in one lifetime is two wars too many. And don’t you waste your time together talking about this war, because if you mean to go back to sea . . .’

Glenys looked at Sam with dismay. ‘Oh, Sam, no! It isn’t as though you aren’t needed here, because you are. And there are the children to consider, remember. They’ve already suffered the loss of their mother. Don’t leave them without a father as well.’

‘Who said anything about leaving them without a mother?’ Sam said as they left the kitchen, closing the back door behind them. ‘Glenys, my dear, I’m a good deal older than you but we get on extremely well and the children, it seems to me, think of you as something very much closer than an aunt. I know that when we first met I treated you like an interloper, an enemy almost, but since then I’ve grown to appreciate your many good qualities . . . oh, hell, I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I? But we’ve only known each other for seven months and I wouldn’t normally have spoken so soon . . .’