‘But it doesn’t have to be like that, Doctor. I can get a job nearby, rent a cottage. If I’m careful we’ll get by. We can all share him. He can spend as much time as he wants to on the farm,’ she argued. Dr Begg shook his head. ‘No, dear, you misunderstand. He’ll only be confused. It’s either one or the other. With you a life of uncertainty, with them an assured future. It’s not going to be so easy for you to get a job now with all the soldiers returning home. They want their jobs back, of course. And you’ll have to keep quiet about where you spent the last eight months. People have closed minds about mental institutions, palaces or not. References might be asked of me about your suitability… I can’t guarantee there’ll be no lapses in the future. If you were married, perhaps, but you’ve told lies, Jeanette. Your mother would be very disappointed in your behaviour.

‘Think carefully. A single woman with a child and no one to back her up will give a son no father to model himself on. At Stratharvar wee Gus’ll have the best of fathers who’ll set him fair for the future. Doesn’t it make sense?’

‘But my father can still take on this role.’ All the sense was leaking out of her head. It was difficult to form her arguments logically. He was battering down her opposition. ‘I didn’t come here to be told I must give up my baby, I can’t do it, surely you can see that?’

‘Then just bide a while, leave him settled and sort yourself out. Get some work, get to know him, visit when you can, leave him here until you can make a proper home, prove you are a stable person, find a nice young laddie to help bring him up… over time perhaps it’ll all pan out. Just wait and see.’

‘I want my baby now!’

‘We cannae always have what we want in this life, Jeanette, we get what we need. Look at your father when he lost his wife, left with a lassie to bring up on his own. He married for your sake and it’s no been a bad union. They’ve supported you when many another would have thrown you out. Don’t ask for the moon. You’re not in a fit state to rear a kiddie yet with nothing behind you.’ His voice was cold and his manner haughty now and Netta felt like a small child in front of the headmaster: foolish and frightened. Yet she was not going to give in easily to his arguments.

‘Thousands of war widows like me are doing just that on a meagre pension. No one is telling them they’ve not got the right to bring up their children, are they?’