The shop looked lovely, with all the crafts that she and Susan sold on display: knitted items, like the Fair Isle jumpers that were very popular with the sailing crowd who brought their boats into the harbour; and the cable knit pullovers that the fishermen liked. Then there were the tartan items: tammy hats and scarves, and household items in tartan – cushions and lampshades.

Montel’s wonderful paintings of local scenes adorned the walls. Dear Montel, he’d made the shop’s fortune in the beginning, with his portraits. People used to flock to the shop to have a painting done of themselves or their children, or even their pets. But none of his work was for sale now; the paintings all belonged to Mags, and she’d thought their rightful place was here, where she and Montel had been so happy. Betsy had thought that Mags would never be happy again after she lost Montel, but it pleased her that she was – and with the lovely Jerome, whom Betsy adored.

As she looked towards the shop front, Betsy felt pride in the pottery items displayed on the shelves there, as they were made by her and Susan – vases, plant pots and all manner of gaily painted bowls and ornaments took pride of place. The counter was positioned amongst them and Susan was sitting behind it. When she spotted Betsy and Rosie, her face lit up. ‘Betsy – thank goodness, I’ve been rushed off me feet and have had a job to cope.’

‘Aye, well, I’m not stopping, lass. Rosie is, though. She’s going to do the next two days with you, if that’s all right.’

Telling Susan about the party didn’t get the reaction Betsy thought it would, though why she expected Susan to see the fun in having a do, when she’d been full of doom and gloom since the first rumblings of war began, she didn’t know. ‘We’ve to make the best of things, Susan. Half of what we worry over may not happen, anyroad.’

‘I know, but I feel bereft even when Sibbie goes to Mags’s home, so I can’t imagine how you’re feeling, Betsy. All three of your girls going, and to God knows what. What if war does come, and your lads and my Sibbie have to go?’

‘Let’s not meet trouble that might not be travelling our road, Susan. One thing at a time. Me girls are going, and I want to give them a send-off to remember. We’ll deal with owt else as it comes along.’

‘You’re right, of course. I’ll try to lift meself. It’s just that everything seems spoilt, or on the brink of being so.’