Mollified, Cyril proceeded to tell his mother about the day when he had been cleaning windows at the Rathbone house and had spotted the rich spoils behind the glass, and went on to describe the night of the raid, when old Mrs Rathbone had collapsed at his feet. ‘You’ve got to find out whether she’s dead or alive,’ he said. ‘No one won’t accuse me of murder, acourse, ’cos only you knows I ain’t dead, but I need to know if she’s still livin’ in that house. So you write and tell me – only make sure you address the envelope to Ernie Beaver, aboard HMS Pinewood – and next time I come home I’ll make sure we’s set up for life!’

It was a fine hot day, but as Glenys walked along the sunken lane leading to Weathercock Farm she was torn between delight as each familiar scene unrolled before her and the chilly fear that she would receive a well-deserved telling-off for her long absence, perhaps even be told not to visit again.

Halfway across the farmyard she stopped and stared at the large dog kennel, which had been Flush’s home as the farm had once been hers. She expected him to come rushing out, giving either a warning bark or an enthusiastic wag of his plumy tail as he recognised her. But no Flush emerged, and Glenys guessed that meant Taid was working in the fields somewhere. But she knew he would not leave the farmhouse empty without a dog to guard it, so Nain and perhaps both children were probably in the kitchen at this very moment. Glenys had bent to peer into the kennel, but now she straightened up, squared her shoulders and headed for the back door. She would take her medicine like a man – no, like a soldier of the ATS – and the sooner she got it over with the better.

She rattled on the back door, knocked, and pushed it open. ‘Is it safe to come in or shall I be shot down in flames? I’m so sorry, so ashamed . . .’ There was a stifled cry from the room she was entering and then her arms were full of Mo, and Nain was hobbling across the floor towards her, a beam spreading across her face, and Glenys knew that all was forgiven even before Nain’s arms enveloped her.

‘Oh, you foolish girl, no visitor could be more welcome,’ Nain said, her voice shaking. ‘We got your letters and longed to be able to tell you all our news, but of course, you naughty girl, that was impossible without an address. Sit down, do, and tell us why you stayed away so long.’ She held Glenys at arm’s length, looking her over whilst a slow smile spread across her face. ‘My goodness, how your uniform suits you! But I do believe you’ve lost weight; have you been pining for – for a sight of your old friends? But I’m afraid you’ve missed Sam. He only left yesterday; he will be so disappointed. He’s been searching for you . . .’