To add to Sister Mary Paul’s woes, old Alf Arkwright, who took care of Mary Vale’s farm and livestock, had complained that the children had chased his sheep and stolen eggs from the hen coop. Though a kind man, Alf had threatened to bang Ronnie and Sally’s heads together if he found them on his land again. The only person that seemed to have any patience with the children was Sister Theresa, the convent’s youngest nun, who had a heart of gold. A former resident named Shirley before she took Holy Orders, she had arrived at Mary Vale some years ago, pregnant as a consequence of her father’s repeated abuse. Mary Paul gave a tender smile as she recalled the nervous young girl, barely more than a child herself, who had fled the horrors of her home life to seek sanctuary with the nuns at Mary Vale. Nowadays it was difficult to connect that helpless, damaged waif with the radiant, caring young nun that Shirley had become. She had found joy and peace in her vocation, and her love of God simply glowed out of her. Maybe it was because her former life had been so hideously cruel that Sister Theresa was instinctively compassionate to anybody in trouble.

‘Or maybe she’s just a much better nun than me,’ Mary Paul reasoned to herself.

As if reading her thoughts, Sister Theresa asked, ‘Can you spare me for ten minutes while the bread dough’s rising? I’d like to check on the kiddies in the garden.’

‘Certainly, please do,’ Mary Paul smiled. ‘You never know what they’ll be up to next!’

Sister Theresa eventually found the children running wild on the marsh on the other side of the railway track. Waving frantically, she caught up with the pair of them – they were chasing wild birds.

‘Don’t do that,’ she said mildly. ‘Some of them will be sitting on their eggs – it’s not a good idea to chase them away.’

‘Why are they sitting on eggs – won’t they flatten them?’ Sally asked.

‘No,’ laughed Sister Theresa. Hunkering down so she was on the same level as the children, she explained, ‘Mummy birds lay eggs, which they sit on to keep warm; when the baby birds inside the eggs hatch out, they stay with their mummies until they’re strong enough to fly away and build their own homes on the marsh.’

‘I’d like to fly away,’ said Ronnie with a wistful smile. ‘I’d like to fight the Germans with mi dad. Boom! Bang!’ Ronnie made loud repeated noises like a cannon or a rifle going off.

‘You’re too young to fight, thank God,’ Theresa said firmly.

‘But I don’t want to be here with all these bloody women with their big bellies – I’m a man!’ Ronnie swaggered.