Vaguely, she remembered Peggy coming to Brumbys’ Farm and talking in secretive whispers to her grandfather. It had not been about Ella going back to Lincoln, as she had hoped at the time, but something even more important.

Ella leaned forward, ‘But that was my father, for heaven’s sake!’

Peggy wriggled. ‘Well, I’m sorry, if you think we were wrong. I wanted to tell you when you got older, but whenever I mentioned it to Jonathan – and I did, Ella, believe me, I did – he kept saying, “Wait till she asks. Time enough when she asks.” But I can’t allow you to blame Jonathan entirely because I agreed with his decision, at least when you were young. I was very tempted to tell you everything when you were here just before Christmas, but then with Janice here . . .’ Peggy’s voice faltered. Her face creased with guilt, she whispered, ‘I’m sorry if you’re angry.’

Swiftly Ella smiled, reached out and patted the older woman’s hands. Peggy Godfrey had always been so important in her life; whatever she had done, or not done, Ella knew, would have been with the best of intentions. ‘Of course I’m not angry with you – or Grandpa, for that matter.’ Ella’s lips tightened as she added, ‘Did she know?’

‘I presume Jonathan told your grannie, but I don’t know for sure.’

‘Huh! If she did know, I’m surprised she didn’t pack me off to him on the first train.’

Peggy sighed. ‘You’re incredibly hard on her, you know. I’ve always been a bit in awe of her, but she’s not as bad as you make out, surely?’

Ella snorted wryly. ‘Don’t you believe it!’

They were silent for a few moments, both busy with their own thoughts.

‘So, have you got a name – an address – anything?’ Ella persisted.

Peggy nodded and rose to go into the front parlour. ‘Wait a minute.’

She came back with a folded paper in her hand. ‘He left this and said that if the right time ever came . . .’

Ella unfolded the paper with shaking fingers. The words danced and blurred before her eyes. There was a name, an address in York and even a phone number. She looked up again at Peggy. ‘But who is he?’

‘The man she drove for in the war, the Station Commander at Suddaby.’ Peggy nodded towards the piece of paper trembling in Ella’s fingers. ‘He’s your father. Group Captain Philip Trent.’

Twenty-Seven

‘I’ve got some photos!’

Ella bounced up, dragged open the door and rushed up the narrow stairs, returning moments later with a handful of letters and photographs she had found in her mother’s box.

‘There,’ she demanded, holding one out towards Peggy. ‘Is that him? The tall man standing beside Mum near the car?’