The girls were out of the door before all this was told to them and following Aunt Betsy down the slope.

Marjie gasped at the beauty that met them. ‘It is like a painting. So different from my home by the sea. We have blue sea and sky and forests and a mountain backdrop, and here is rugged, wild and, well, stunning.’

Sibbie glowed at this praise of her home town. ‘As you know, Mum’s a Londoner, and did consider taking us back to London when Montel died; she loved him dearly, he was such a good friend to her, and like a father to me.’

‘Yes, I have heard a lot about him from Aunt Mags – she and Montel were very much in love, weren’t they? And the story of his life is fascinating, with his escape from France and then his eventual recognition by the French as a hero. I would so love to have known him.’

‘Montel was an amazing man, and being here I feel so close to him, even though it was the scene of his terrible death. I feel he rests easy on these shores. And I think that’s what helped Mum make her mind up to stay. Though she kept some of her heritage – always insisting that I call her “Mum” and never letting me pick up the local Scottish accent, or the Blackburn one that Betsy and the girls have. Not that there is anything wrong with either. I just think she wanted to hold on to a bit of herself.’

Marjie linked arms with Sibbie and then did the same with Betsy, who smiled warmly. Sibbie thought it a lovely gesture and squeezed Marjie’s hand in appreciation.

‘I’m glad you like our little neck of the woods, Marjella. I love it, but by, I miss Blackburn at times. Folk here are lovely, but it ain’t like them back in me home town. I knew them all as lived around. I expect it were the same for your ma, Sibbie, though she never says so. What you just said shows it, though – there’s nowt can substitute for your beginnings. Now, here we are.’

Betsy opened the huge wooden doors at the back of the shop building, which were about the only reminder that this had once been a boathouse.

‘Mum! Oh, Mum!’ For some reason, Sibbie felt all her pent-up emotion gush from her at the sight of her mother. Tears streamed down her face.

‘Sibbie, my Sibbie. Oh, it’s so good to hold you. I’ve missed you so much,’ Susan said.

Hearing this and the sob in her mum’s voice, Sibbie controlled her feelings. The last thing she wanted was to worry her mother. ‘We’re a daft pair. I didn’t mean to blab. I’m just so happy to see you.’

‘And me, you. How long can you stay?’