Once more the traffic edged forward and, to Gleny’s dismay, as the lorry began to pick up speed the driver turned to her and thrust out a hand. ‘How do you do? I’m Dorothy Ward, Dotty to me friends.’

‘I’m Glenys Trent,’ Glenys said as their hands met. ‘I say, do keep your eyes on the road. The lorry ahead is going to stop, I feel it in my bones.’

Her companion chuckled. ‘You’d better apply to be a driver – Driver Mechanic is what they call my section. I’m not saying the pay is particularly good, you can earn more in other trades, but the training is first class, and though there’s a lot of sitting around you’ll get exercise right enough. Still, you’ll get a load of information from the recruiting office.’

Glenys sighed, bidding farewell in her mind to the possibility of breeches and a green jersey, WAAF blues, a Wren’s black silk stockings and a nurse’s cap and apron. She owed this young person more perhaps than mere thanks. Aloud, she said: ‘I shall apply for the ATS, Dotty. Will they issue me a uniform at once?’

Dotty gave a crow of amusement. ‘Because of old Chamberlain – the gals call him “Potty”; I expect you can guess why – recruiting offices are goin’ to be overwhelmed. You’ll be lucky to get an armband at first, though once they realise you’ve gorra proper qualification I dare say they’ll find up a uniform from somewhere.’

The traffic began to move, this time more rapidly, and presently the two girls shared Glenys’s sandwiches and tea from Dotty’s flask. After that, as the stars paled and the sky brightened, Dotty told Glenys all about the ATS as seen through a driver’s eyes. ‘But could you drive already?’ Glenys asked uneasily.

‘No, the ATS taught me. I take it you can’t drive?’ Dotty said.

‘I’ve driven a tractor many times and Sam lets me drive his old jalopy into town, but I don’t know whether I’d dare to say I could actually drive,’ Glenys admitted.

‘Who’s Sam?’

‘Sam? Oh, he’s just the son-in-law of my old employer; no one of any particular importance,’ Glenys said airily, and realised as she said it that she was speaking no more than the truth. Regardless of Sam’s feelings for her, if she had felt anything stronger than sisterly affection for him she would surely have left him a note, and it had not once occurred to her to do so. But as the light grew stronger, Dotty’s chatter seemed to fade and Glenys realised that she was visualising the scene in the kitchen when the family assembled for breakfast. She sighed. She hated inflicting pain, but she told herself that she had done the right thing by leaving. So she sat up straighter and watched the passing countryside and would not let herself think of the people she had left behind.

In the farmhouse kitchen, Nain was already stirring the porridge and Taid was sitting in front of the stove, toasting slices of the bread which his wife had made the day before. He had seen the letter addressed to Nain leaning against the drum of salt but had said nothing, realising that his wife would probably read it when she had finished cooking breakfast, and presently Sam and the children clattered down the stairs. Jimmy and Mo began to do the tasks which they performed every morning, fetching jars of marmalade and Marmite from the pantry, checking that their books were in their school satchels, feeding the cats – there were three of them – with saucers of milk and finally sitting themselves down at the table as Nain served out porridge into five of the six dishes they had laid out. Mo stared at the empty dish. ‘Has Glenys already had hers?’ she asked plaintively. ‘I got up early ’cos it’s the first day of school after the holidays, only I know the corn harvest isn’t finished and I thought I’d ask Glenys if we could have a day off to help.’