An ever-present ache nudged Sibbie at this thought. Montel had been her proper daddy, if not her real one. What she knew from her mum about how Harold Roford, her blood father, had led his life, she didn’t like, and she had never felt any kinship to him. She would have liked to have met Harold, though. Just so that she could have kicked him in the shins.

As they walked through the withdrawing room towards the French windows that led to the garden, Sibbie took in the graceful furniture and the calming colours of pale blue and cream that adorned this room. The familiarity of it reinforced the fact that she was very much a part of this house, as Aunt Mags was like a second mother to her, so ‘home’ was wherever she was.

Marjie coming into view drew Sibbie’s attention away from her lovely surroundings. ‘Marjie! Oh, Marjie!’

Marjie jumped up and ran towards her. When they collided, they hugged and twirled around together, as if they would never part again.

Mags laughed out loud at them. ‘You two – you would think you were sisters, not cousins. I’ll leave you to it, and go and organize Cook to bring tea and biscuits.’

Although Sibbie and Marjie had been brought up in different countries – Marjie in France, and Sibbie in Scotland – they had bonded the moment they met, when Mags first took Sibbie to France at the age of eight to meet her Aunt Flors, Marjie’s mum and the sister of Harold Roford.

Sibbie had loved France and being part of the Domaine de Florella, the vineyard that her Aunt Flors and Uncle Cyrus owned, along with Aunt Ella and her husband, Arnie.

When they came to a standstill, Sibbie linked arms with Marjie. ‘I can’t believe you’re here. And what do you think of England, and more especially Blackburn?’

‘I know, I can’t believe this time has come at last. It’s so good to see you, Sibbie. I haven’t seen much of England, or Blackburn – only through the windows of trains and cars – but I know I am going to love it here.’

‘You will – I do. This village, the beauty that surrounds it all, the town of Blackburn and Aunt Mags’s mill, and Uncle Jerome’s veterinary practice: it’s all so lovely. And you’ll love the language school. Professor Hillson is adorable – eccentric, but a marvellous teacher. So, how was your journey?’

‘Long, and very boring, but at times rather frightening, as the stations were crowded with soldiers, especially in France. It made me appreciate the reality of what my parents and brothers are talking about all the time.’

‘I saw a lot of soldiers today, too; even women are being recruited here. I’m just too young to be called, although I really feel like offering my services.’

‘But what would you do? And what about your studies?’