He plucked a dandelion from the grass and proceeded to shred it. ‘I miss Auntie Vi and the farm, my friends, and all the old engines I was working on,’ he said in a rush.

‘That’s only natural,’ said Ron calmly. ‘It was your home for five years, and it must have been a wrench to be brought back here where everything is so different.’

Charlie felt the weight of anxiety slowly lift. His grandfather understood. ‘I want to fit in, really I do,’ he said. ‘But I was just a little kid when Mum sent me away, and nothing’s how I remember it.’

He was unable to keep the resentment of that banishment from his voice. ‘I don’t know her or Cordelia, and yet I’m expected to feel the same for them as I did when I was eight – and it’s really odd having Daisy about the place even though I knew she’d be here.’

‘Your mother still loves you,’ said Ron. ‘She’s always loved you, and sending you away was the hardest thing she’s ever had to do, believe me, wee boy.’

He took a breath and let it out on a sigh. ‘I know how you must resent being sent away, Charlie, but what you have to understand is that your mother had little choice in the matter. The government at the time was badgering every mother in the land to do the right thing by sending their children away from danger. Peggy was of an age when she could remember how it had been during the First World War, and although she resisted for as long as she dared, the knowledge that this war – like the one in Spain – would be fought from the air, made it more terrifying.’

Charlie absorbed this in silence as he gazed out at the quiet valley that shimmered in the morning’s heat.

‘This might seem peaceful now, but we were living in what became known as “Bomb Alley” during the war,’ Ron continued. ‘You can see for yourself how hard Cliffehaven was hit, and when your school was bombed, Peggy knew she had to protect you. It broke her heart, Charlie, and she’s had to bear the terrible guilt of sending you and Bob away ever since.’

‘I never thought of it that way,’ murmured Charlie, feeling sick at heart for his mother’s pain. ‘But why did she stay here and keep Daisy with her? Lots of mums with very small children came with them to our village. We could all have been together then.’

‘She knew she was taking a terrible risk, Charlie, but she had responsibilities here with Cordelia and all the evacuees she’d taken in.’ He chewed his pipe stem. ‘I think she needed to keep Daisy by her, especially after your father was sent abroad. Peggy had lost all the rest of her family once you’d gone to Somerset, and Daisy was her only consolation and tie to you all.’

Charlie remained silent, envying his baby sister’s closeness to their mother, and wishing he didn’t, for it seemed churlish and unfair after what his grandfather had told him. Yet he could remember so clearly how he’d cried and cried once he’d realised the journey was not a new and exciting adventure, but that he was expected to stay there, not knowing when and if he would ever go home again. Through Vi’s love and tenderness he’d knuckled down to getting on with things, and slowly, inevitably, the attachment to his mother and home had dwindled until it was lost.