She leaned her forehead against the mirror’s cool glass, feeling a sharp pang of longing. It was an old craving, a thirst to be connected to a place that felt like home. In her mind’s eye, she saw scenes of all the places she had lived. Perhaps it wasn’t good for a person to live in so many places, it wasn’t natural? She thought of her bedroom at Eltham, the serenity of the curving walls, the sound of wind rustling in the trees. Even if the allies won, there would be no going back because the life they’d known no longer existed. And if Hitler was victorious. . . Her mind shied away from the idea.

Her thoughts turned to Stephen. He loved Scotland and had thrown himself into building up a beautiful herd of pedigree Highland cattle, learning all about milking and dipping and inoculating. The thought comforted her. He was her constant, her anchor. It was swiftly followed by a twinge of guilt, familiar as her little fingernail. The deception on which she had built their marriage was festering inside her. She had felt a growing need to tell him the truth, whatever the cost to herself.

They had been cooped up for days by rain, so after breakfast they decided to take advantage of the fine weather and walk up Ben Cruachan with Solfo. It was one of their favourite climbs, especially on a day like this, with clear views everywhere and the glorious reds and golds of the honey-scented bracken suddenly turning purple and silver as clouds rolled overhead.

Walking beside Stephen, breathing in his familiar smell, it was hard not to notice what a good mood he was in. His step was buoyant, he was whistling out of key. There would never be a better moment than this one to confess. She tried to rouse the courage, but couldn’t. She looked at his contented face and the words would not come. When they reached the summit, they put stones on the cairn and admired the calm, unchangeable landscape; the distant hills stretching away in a pearly light. They could see as far as Ben More on Mull and the mountains of Arran. They felt far from everything in space and time, the war a distant memory.

Stephen spread a tartan rug on the ground and they sat down. Ginie took out a flask of tea and sandwiches in a paper parcel. She straightened her back and pushed on through the knot of dread in her stomach.

‘I have something to tell you. Something big. I should have said it a long time ago.’

His eyes on her face, he joked gently that she wore her emotions so transparently, how could there be anything about her he didn’t know?

‘Well, there is,’ she said. She cleared her throat. ‘A long time ago, I fell pregnant – it was before Paulo. I was young and stupidly naïve.’