Monty was taking to this side of the business and his mood lifted. Teatime talk was of the graded grapes, of the presses and how they worked, as well as the lovely wine he’d been involved in making and how he thought it would be the best they had ever produced. His enthusiasm was just like his father’s, and this had pleased Cyrus beyond words.

All in all, the bleakness was lifting a little. There was still hope that Hitler wouldn’t invade Poland and that the war they all feared might not happen at all. Flors prayed that it wouldn’t and that soon her boys would be home, and so would Marjella. Then life could get back to normal – her happy, carefree world put back together again. Oh, how she hoped so. Please, God, let it happen.

CHAPTER THREE

Portpatrick, Scotland

Betsy and Susan

‘Betsy, stop your fussing, hen. It is what it is.’

‘Aye, I knaws that, Angus, but it feels as though me world’s tumbling around me and I can’t stop it. All the young ’uns will be in danger – me girls and our Billy. And Roderick’s coming on fourteen – what if it goes on a long time and he has to go? I can’t bear it, I can’t.’

‘I ken what you’re saying, me lassie, but we canna influence the goings-on of the wider world. Och, nothing may happen anyways, and then you’ll have fretted for nothing.’

‘And besides that, Ma, we want to do this.’

‘Eeh, Daisy. It were bad enough for me as each one of you went off to Dumfries to do your training, but I got used to that, and you weren’t in danger or owt. I miss you every day you’re not here, but this is different, lass.’

‘Och, I knaw, Ma. But times change. We all decided together, didn’t we?’ Daisy looked at her two sisters, Florrie and Rosie. They both nodded.

Betsy’s heart felt as though it would break, but even so, she never ceased to find it funny to hear how her daughters spoke a mixture of their native Blackburn dialect inflected with a smattering of how the Scottish folk expressed themselves. But then it wasn’t surprising, as Daisy had only been seven, Florrie six and Rosie four when she’d moved up here with Mags after her Bill, their da, had died. Sighing, she dispelled the memory. Visiting it was just too painful.

‘Was that a resigned sigh, Ma?’

‘Naw, it wasn’t, our Florrie. I’ll never be resigned to you three going off to the army. It’s like cutting me heart out.’