Sam, by this time, had scraped his porridge bowl clean and left the table, and was heading for the back door. ‘I shan’t be long,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Daft girl. The Min of Ag will know that Taid is quite capable of running the farm, just as Nain is equally capable of running the house, so neither I nor Glenys is necessary. I’m going to re-muster whether she comes back or not.’

Jimmy abandoned his own half-eaten breakfast and followed his father out of the kitchen. ‘I knew you’d go, Dad, and so you should, ’cos it’s your duty,’ he said importantly. ‘I’m thirteen, nearly old enough to do a man’s work. So don’t you worry, but go off on your ship and come home when you’re on leave. Taid and me can cope.’

Nain sent Mo off to make the beds whilst she and Taid had their own breakfast, but Mo, halfway to the stairs, turned abruptly. ‘Nain, shall I make Glenys’s bed? Do you think Daddy will catch up with her and bring her back?’

‘No, I don’t think he will; even if he catches up with her she isn’t going to want to come back,’ Nain said gently. ‘I think we have to accept that we may not see her for some time. So you must be a brave little girl and help in the war effort, as Jimmy will.’

Mo turned to peer down into the kitchen. ‘But shall I make her bed?’ she enquired patiently. ‘You didn’t answer that part of me question.’

Nain sighed. Oh, dear; how literal children were. But an honest question deserved an honest answer. ‘No, dear,’ she said decidedly. ‘Leave that room until last. We’ll fold up the bedding – apart from the sheets, which I will launder – and put it into the chest at the end of the bed to await her return.’

She waited until the child was out of sight, waited in fact until she heard Mo open her own bedroom door and slam it casually behind her, then turned to Taid. He was smiling. ‘You knew she’d gone before you even opened the envelope,’ he said, his tone neither accusatory nor surprised. ‘Has she been planning this for days? Did you know?’

Nain shook her head. ‘Not exactly; all that nonsense about Sam being allowed to remain if she left was probably only put into her head by the Prime Minister yesterday, and as for having found a clue to her mother’s identity, how, pray, could she have done that? No, it’s nothing so simple; I think she’s on a quest, though not to find her mother. What Glenys is searching for, and hoping to find, is herself. Poor child. Just think of our Grace and compare her childhood – and young womanhood too for that matter – with Glenys’s. Brought up in an orphanage, never knowing the love of a parent or the attention of relatives, and then pushed out into college because she was so clever. She was always expected to take her own decisions and make her own way. Even friendships must have come hard for her, because I expect that when she was in the orphanage she was cleverer than the other girls, and folk don’t like feeling inferior. And even though she would have been surrounded by a great many clever young women when she went on to college, she would have found it difficult to integrate; they would have had relatives, school friends, even boyfriends. Glenys knew herself to be alone, knew herself to be different, so she seized on the children’s desire to find their mother’s relatives and pretended that she, too, was looking for the woman who had abandoned her. It was probably the first time she ever felt needed. So it’s not surprising that when Sam’s attitude towards her softened, she believed herself to be in love with him . . .’