But winter days are short and the sky had a threatening look; Glenys suspected that there would be snow before many hours had passed, so she gave in to the children’s pleas that they should only visit two more farms and then turn for home. The time she had earmarked for ringing Frank was approaching, too, and she did not want to miss it.

The first farm they visited was called Ridgeways, and turned out to be owned by an Evans family. It was a prosperous-looking place, reached down a narrow lane with high banks on either side which must, when spring came, be starred with primroses and violets. And no doubt in June with wild strawberries, Jimmy said longingly, and added that if his mother’s family owned a farm like this they should certainly be willing to take on a couple of kids who would cost them almost nothing.

Mrs Evans herself answered the door, and said at once that there was another farm a couple of miles off. ‘But I believe a bad state it is in,’ she warned them. ‘The Depression has hit farming families cruel hard; cheap imports, see? If they’d had a big family of lads, same as us, they could have weathered the Depression, but as it is the old folk couldn’t cope. I believe they’re living just in the back of the house, and my good man says if it weren’t for their vegetable garden they’d have likely starved.’

‘Did the family have a daughter what ran away with an English seaman a dozen or more years ago?’ Jimmy asked eagerly.

Mrs Evans shook her head. ‘We wouldn’t be knowin’ about anythin’ what happened more’n five years ago, when we bought old Mr Davies out and moved up from our small farm in the Vale of Clwyd to this ’un. I can’t tell you anything about the Weathers’ family.’

‘Weathers? We’re looking for folk named Griffiths,’ Jimmy told her in a disappointed tone. ‘My mam was a Griffiths before she got married.’

Mrs Evans was a plump and jolly woman, dark-haired and dark-eyed. She had been smiling, but now her face grew thoughtful. ‘Weather isn’t their proper name, just what we call them. You know how it is in Wales when you’ve got four or five families all with the same surname. It’s quite possible their real name is Griffiths.’

Jimmy and Glenys both nodded their comprehension, but Mo looked curious. ‘Why do you call them the Weathers?’

Mrs Evans laughed. ‘Because their farm has a weathercock on the roof of the big old barn. And they call me Mrs Redhead because my husband has red hair. But I’d best not keep you, as you have a fair walk ahead of you. Be sure to give the Weathers the good word from myself and my family.’

‘We will; and thank you,’ Mo said blithely. She seized Glenys’s hand. ‘I do hope it’s our mam’s relatives,’ she said as they returned to the lane. ‘Oh, Auntie Glenys, I’ve got a feelin’ in me bones that soon as soon, me and Jimmy’s goin’ to have a grandma and grandpa, and a proper home of our own; I can’t wait!’