‘You’re a little boy,’ Theresa reminded him. ‘And you really have to stop swearing so much, Ronnie. It upsets the ladies and the nuns, and your mother too.’

‘Mum’s too weak to care,’ Ronnie said angrily. ‘The doctor in London told us she might die, and we might get put in an orphanage.’

Little Sally’s dark eyes filled with tears.

‘I don’t want our mother to die!’ she wailed. ‘I don’t want to be a horphan,’ she sobbed pitiably.

Theresa gathered the frightened little girl into her arms. ‘Sweetheart,’ she soothed, ‘your mother brought you here so that we could look after all of you. Sister Mary Paul’s good food will make Mummy better, and when the war is over she’ll take you home.’

‘R … r … r … really?’ hiccupped Sally.

‘Really,’ Theresa assured the child. Turning to Ronnie, she added, ‘Now promise me you’ll stop your horrible swearing?’

‘S’pose so,’ Ronnie said reluctantly.

Then to Sally. ‘And you’ll do your best not to worry your mother.’

Sally bit her lip as she earnestly nodded.

‘If you keep your promise, I’ll take you into Grange on the train tomorrow and I’ll buy you a treat for being good.’

Sally’s dark eyes sparkled. ‘I’ll be good, Sister Trees,’ she solemnly said. ‘I want a lollipop.’

When Sister Theresa returned to the kitchen, she found Sister Mary Paul having a cup of tea with Ada.

‘Ada’s just told me that Miss Harwood is planning on leaving the Home,’ the old nun said in a low voice.

‘Not surprising really,’ Ada commented. ‘She’s never been happy here.’

‘She’s a woman who’s used to getting her own way,’ Mary Paul said knowingly.

Sister Theresa smiled to herself as she popped the risen dough into the big old Aga oven.

‘Nobody gets preferential treatment here,’ she said. ‘Everyone is in the same boat.’

‘Including me,’ giggled Ada, as she pointed to her own growing tummy.

‘Glory be to God, you grow bigger by the day,’ exclaimed Mary Paul.

‘That’s the general idea, Sister,’ Ada smiled.

‘You certainly look well,’ Theresa commented.

‘I’m fine,’ Ada agreed. ‘I think when the time comes for me to leave, I’ll be ready for it,’ she admitted.

‘I’m worried sick about you living on your own,’ Sister Mary Paul fussed. ‘No woman should be on her own when she’s expecting.’

‘Dear Sister,’ she soothed. ‘I’m no different from all the other thousands of pregnant women who are on their own these days.’

Tears welled up in the old nun’s eyes. ‘I shall miss you,’ she confessed.

‘And I’ll miss you,’ Ada assured her. ‘But hopefully I’ll come back as soon as I’m fit for work, and in the meantime,’ she said with a mischievous wink, ‘you’ll probably get to like the new staff nurse more than me.’