When Ruby looked as if she was about to throw a tantrum Miss Fox then turned and calmly left the room, but could Ruby have known it her stomach was churning. She had managed to avert a crisis this time – but what would they do when the jewels were all sold? Perhaps they could sublet some of the rooms to lodgers? And Cook had been saying for a while that she was thinking of retiring to the country to live with her widowed brother. That would save another wage, although it would mean yet more work for Maggie and Kitty, not that they ever complained. Heaving a lengthy sigh, Phyllis Fox hurried off to find somewhere quiet where she could think things through in peace.

That same day at Treetops, Sunday and Tom were welcoming the first of their evacuees from London. A few families had written to them asking if they would be prepared to take their children into a safe place for the duration of the war. Their fathers were all away fighting and their mothers were now working, so Sunday was happy to oblige. She could only imagine how terrifying it must be to have bombs dropping out of the sky so close to them, and her maternal instinct rushed to the fore as George delivered the children to her after picking them up from the railway station.

There was another set of twins, Henry and Harry, as alike as two peas in a pod, and then two little girls from two different families, Jenny and Nancy. The twins were five years old, the girls six and seven and they were all from the East End of London.

‘Cor blimey, missus, this place is massive! I reckon it’s as big as Bucking’am Palace!’ Harry greeted her, and Sunday grinned. She had an idea she was going to have her work cut out with these four. They certainly weren’t shy. Ben chose that moment to wander around the corner of the house then and immediately all four pairs of eyes turned to him and the children openly had a good look at the disfigured side of his face. Sunday cringed. Ben was so self-conscious of his scars and still refused to venture outside the grounds of Treetops for fear of people staring at him and whispering. Even so, he had come a long way. When he had first returned home he would not even come out of his room.

‘You copped it there good an’ proper didn’t you, mate?’ Harry chirped and Ben seemed to shrink before her eyes. Turning about, he beat a hasty retreat without even bothering to answer.

‘So what’s up wiv ’im then?’ Harry enquired. ‘He’s an ’ero, ain’t he, so why should he be ashamed?’

Sunday had been about to scold him, not the best of starts, but saw then that Harry hadn’t meant any harm. He was just a very chatty five-year-old who saw things as they were.