Knowing that she was being dismissed, Kitty wandered away with her doll Annabelle tucked firmly beneath her arm and Ben was thoughtful as he watched her go.

It was the middle of April when Sunday suddenly suggested, ‘Why don’t we pack a picnic and take the children for a walk in the woods? It’s such a lovely day, it’s a shame to waste it.’

Tom, who had his head stuck in a newspaper, sighed to himself. He had just been snatching a few minutes before returning to the list of jobs that never seemed to get any shorter, but he agreed all the same.

‘All right then. But only for a couple of hours, mind. There’s still a lot of work to do in the orchard if we’re to get the best of the crops when they come. I was hoping to finish pruning the apple trees today, and there’s still a mass of weeding waiting to be done in the vegetable garden. George is out there now working on it even as we speak.’

He laid down his paper as Sunday rushed off to the kitchen to organise a picnic hamper and round the children up, and within half an hour they set off with the younger ones racing ahead laughing and shouting. Hartshill Hayes was always a beautiful place to stroll in, but in the spring it took on a magical quality. Beneath the canopy of trees was a carpet of bluebells for as far as the eye could see … and the smell of the flowers was heady.

Sunday often told the little ones stories about the fairies who played in the woods and today Kitty ran up to her, her dark hair glinting with golden lights in the dappled sun that managed to break through the canopy of branches overhead.

‘Will we see any fairies today, Sunday?’ she asked innocently.

Sunday raised a finger to her lips before whispering, ‘You just might if you’re very quiet, but if you’re noisy and they hear you coming, they’ll hide.’

Big brown eyes as wide as saucers stared back at her before Kitty turned abruptly about and hurried off to try and shush the other children.

Sunday’s heart swelled with love for the child as she watched her go. She knew that Tom was right and she shouldn’t spoil her the way she did, but it was hard not to.

Eventually they came to a break in the trees and emerged onto the bank. The fields and hedgerows stretched away into the distance like a patchwork quilt of multicoloured shades of green. There was nothing to be heard but the sound of birdsong and the children’s laughter, and Sunday sighed with contentment.

‘It doesn’t get much better than this, does it?’ she said and Tom nodded in agreement as he spread a blanket on the ground and began to unpack the hamper. There were three bottles of lemonade, freshly made that morning, and a number of hard-boiled eggs, small cakes and biscuits.