Angus didn’t speak for a moment. When he did, his voice shook. ‘I knew the ship had been sunk. The news has been full of it on the radio. I – I . . . well, the moment I heard, I disabled our wireless. I tried to keep it from ye, Betsy, me lassie, in the hope that our wee lassies were among them as were saved. I ken I did wrong, but I didn’t want ye worrying and waiting for news. When ye were coming, Rosie, I thought ye’d heard it too and were coming to be by ye Ma’s side.’

‘Naw, I – I, well, I had sommat on me mind, and I’ve been travelling. I tried not to see owt about the war.’

Roddie, moving as if he was a zombie, brought the tea over. Rosie busied herself pouring it, trying not to let in the horrific truth. ‘Drink this, Ma, it’s very strong and very sweet. Your body needs it, Ma.’

Still Betsy didn’t speak. Sounds came from her – sounds of desperation and incomprehension – but no words.

Rosie helped her ma to drink her tea. Like a child, Betsy did just as Rosie told her to. When the tea had gone, Rosie took her ma into her arms – keeping the news at bay had defeated her. ‘Ma, Ma. It’s unbearable . . .’ Sobs racked her body, and her heart split in two.

Betsy stroked her hair, her own tears spilling out now, her moans still the only sound that came from her, but at least she was reacting, and this comforted Rosie a little. Though she knew that life would never again be the same. Her darling Daisy and Florrie lost to her forever.

‘Will I get me lasses back? I want them, I want me lasses. Angus, I want me lasses.’

This wail from her ma almost broke Rosie. ‘Ma. Ma, please.’

‘Oh, I knaw as they’re gone, but I want to bury them here.’

‘Ma, that won’t be possible.’ Though her own heart was breaking, Rosie tried to give some comfort to her mother. ‘They were together, Ma. Aye, and with friends they would have made an’ all, no doubt. They’ll all go to heaven, and that means as they’re here an’ all – with us, all around us; we only have to speak to them, for them to hear. We’ll have a service, though. How would that be, eh? We’ll get Aunt Ciss and Uncle Patrick, and Aunt Mags and Uncle Jerome to come, and everyone from here, and we’ll do them proud.’

‘And Sibbie?’

‘I don’t knaw, Ma, but we’ll try.’

‘Maybe, hen, we’ll have to wait until the war is over, afore we can have a proper service.’

At this from Angus, Rosie suspected that he was thinking, like her, that Sibbie and Marjella were carrying out special work they couldn’t be released from.