‘Do you think such a time will come? I can only think we will want to ask each other if we are going to the village “hop”. Ha, I still find that so funny – as if we are going to hop around the village, like this . . .’

Marjie let go of Sibbie’s hand and did a hop, skip and dance around the roof. She looked so funny that Sibbie burst out laughing. ‘One way to keep warm,’ Sibbie said and then joined in; and before they knew it, they were bent double, their laughter soaring into the now-still air.

A flock of birds took off in squawking protest. Marjie stopped laughing and looked heavenwards. ‘They too have flown the nest.’ With this, her tears spilled over.

Sibbie walked over and held her. Her own heart was heavy with unshed tears. She just clung onto Marjie, both giving and taking comfort.

It was hours later that Sibbie got the chance to open her letter. When she did, she was filled with joy and sadness at the same time.

She and Marjie were back in their billeted home, with Mrs Parkinson, a bright little widowed lady of around sixty who, not having any children of her own, was like a granny to all the village and was always busy knitting, or organizing fund-raising events and making sure the village children had all they needed.

Sitting on her bed, placed next to Marjie’s, Sibbie lay back. Marjie had her eyes closed and didn’t open them as Sibbie opened Paulo’s letter, wondering as she did so how it had ever reached her. Her imagination showed her Paulo hiding out in the forests of Hérault, or even in the hills and mountains that surrounded it. Did he have shelter and food?

Her heart ached at the notion that he might not have. The envelope containing the letter seemed to resist being opened, but she knew this was caused by her impatience and not wanting to spoil anything about this precious gift, by tearing it.

Sibbie, this is written very quickly and with a deep hope in my heart that you are well and safe, as I am.

In these terrible times that have disrupted all our lives, I have to speak out and say how I feel about you. I want you to know that I have loved you ever since I met you. At first as a kind of cousin but, as I grew older, my feelings deepened with every visit you made, until now there is an ache in my heart that compels me to tell you.

On your last visit we had no time alone, but I felt that you had feelings for me. Is it possible that you do? It is important for me to know, as the knowledge will sustain me and help me through all that we face.