My head was filled with confusion, my loyalties divided. On the one hand, Eli needed our help. On the other, it could all turn out so very badly for my father. But Kit’s enthusiasm was infectious. This was our secret shared plan. Together we would save Eli’s hut, so that he could live out the rest of his years happily in his woodland grove.

‘So long as Eli agrees, we’ll go ahead,’ I said.

When we parted that afternoon, Kit took both of my hands in his and looked into my eyes. ‘You’re a great kid, doing this for Eli,’ he said. ‘And a good mate. Makes me realise how selfish my life has been up to now.’ He let go and turned to leave, touching me lightly on the shoulder. ‘Okay then. See you tomorrow, ten-thirty? It’s going to be amazing, Molly.’

‘Till tomorrow,’ I said, near to tears. I didn’t want to be a great kid or a good mate. I wanted to be his girlfriend.

At home, Pa was nowhere to be found, and Mrs D was anxious.

‘Forgive me, Miss Molly. But has he talked about feeling poorly, lately?’ she asked, shaking flour into the large cream mixing bowl she used for making bread.

‘Only that he’s got a lot on his plate,’ I said. The truth was that my father was looking increasingly worn around the edges, like a frayed scarf. ‘Why do you ask?’

She demurred, peering down at the dough. ‘Well, it’s not really my place . . .’

‘You can tell me.’

‘It’s what the hubby said last night.’ She carried on kneading.

‘Go on.’ What new revelation was this?

‘George heard him, late last evening, in the church. He’d dropped in to replace the candles . . .’

‘Pa often goes over there to pray, of an evening.’

‘This wasn’t praying, my dear. He was . . .’ She stopped her kneading.

‘You can tell me, Miss D.’

‘The word George used was . . . babbling.’

‘Babbling?’ Like a brook? Such a strange word. ‘What about?’

‘None of it really made sense, Hubby said. But there was something about the bank managers and being afraid of the shellings, and the world being out to get him, and someone called Sarah.’

My mother. I felt like crying, but somehow I needed to hold it together to protect my poor father. ‘It’s the shell shock,’ I heard myself saying. ‘He gets these turns from time to time. It will pass. And Sarah is my late mother, by the way. In case you were wondering. We all miss her terribly.’

Mrs D brushed her floury hands on her apron, walked over and took me in her arms. It was the first proper hug I’d had from an adult in months. For a second I resisted. But then the dam in my heart gave way, and I found myself falling against her, sobbing.