But now Sam and Glenys were to be married at long last. Glenys herself had been demobbed only a week earlier, and had hurried back to Weathercock Farm and into Sam’s waiting arms.

Nain and Taid had taken it for granted that after the wedding the happy couple would live with them, but Sam, though he thanked them sincerely, said that he had put down a deposit on a farm cottage less than a mile from the Griffiths property. Nain said sadly that she would miss them, but Taid thought it was for the best.

‘We’ll have Mo to stay for a couple of weeks whilst you settle in, but if you’re thinking of going shopping in Liverpool I think you should take her with you. Since VE Day last year I’ve noticed that she’s mentioned her old fear of the Huxtables more than once, and if Solomon Court’s been bombed, which is more than likely, it might convince her that they’re out of her life for good,’ Taid suggested.

Glenys mentioned the idea to Sam a couple of days later as the two of them stood in the cottage, surveying the whitewashed walls and brick floor with an owner’s pride, and he agreed at once. ‘We’ll go on Saturday. It’s our first home and we’ll enjoy furnishing it and setting out our things.’

Accordingly, they accompanied Mo on a tour of the courts and markets in the area around Scotland Road. She shed a tear when she failed to recognise her old school in the bomb site to which it had been reduced, and was upset to find the corner shop where she used to spend her pennies gone, but she cheered up at the sight of the pile of bricks and rubble which had once been her home. ‘You were right, Auntie Glenys. No one could live there any more, so the Huxtables really have gone,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t really scared; it was a long time ago and with any luck Cyril might have been killed in the war anyway, but I can stop worrying about them at all now.’

Unfortunately, the shopping expedition itself was not quite so successful, and they returned with only a couple of Utility chairs and a small bedside cabinet. ‘The trouble is, everyone’s in the same boat,’ Glenys said wearily, dropping into a creaking wicker chair in the farmhouse kitchen and accepting the cup of tea Nain offered. ‘But we met old Mrs Ransome from Solomon Court – she recognised Mo, which is amazing after all these years – and she told us there’s going to be a grand furniture sale just outside Liverpool next weekend. Apparently someone has hired a tumbledown farmhouse with a good deal of land and the usual outbuildings, and he’s opening it up as a sort of second-hand emporium. People can take any furniture or clothing or whatnot they want to get rid of and put it up for sale, and everyone who comes in either to buy or to sell will be charged a shilling at the gate. It’s a good idea, don’t you think?’