Gradually Wilma and Malky settled down to the routine of farm life: helping feed the pigs and clear out the byres; watching the milking. When they were naughty each was sentenced to a hundred pumps on the well handle which fed the water tank, which soon took the edge of their mischief. Everyone joined in the Hallowe’en Social, the apple dookin’ and dressing up. The Battle of the Boyne was fought again over the muted Bonfire celebrations. Wilma refused even to look at the fireworks, dim though they were.

Miss Armour Broun decided in the interests of harmony that there should be some joint fundraising effort to encourage the two factions to pull together. It was decided by the Board to hold a Christmas concert in aid of Red Cross funds. All the classes were to be involved and provide sketches, songs and dances to fill the programme, but each was to keep their item a surprise.

The girls in the Qualifying and Advanced Division decided to put on an ambitious display of Physical Exercises to music. Netta and her chums put in hours of extra practice on their clubs and hoop routines. It was proving difficult to keep all their jerks in time with the music without resorting to counting out loud. As for their costumes, modesty decreed against their blackout knickers and vests in favour of pleated shorts and shirts decorated with seasonal trimmings brought from home.

Wilma was very secretive about her turn. She had a solo spot which no one was allowed to observe. One day a parcel arrived in the post from ‘Maw’ Dixey that sent her into cartwheels of excitement. ‘It’s ma costume for the show!’

Wilma seemed to be spending most of her life upside down, doing handstands and back arches: “showing off ” was what Peg called it and privately Netta tended to agree.

‘Ma wee schule’s a grand wee schule

The best wee schule in Glesga

The only thing that’s up wi’ it

Is the baldy-headed Maister.’

Dixie was skipping and singing at the same time.

‘You’re not going to sing that, are you?’ sniffed Netta in disgust.

Dixie kept on skipping:

‘He gans tae the pub on Saturday night

He gans tae the kirk on Sunday

An prays tae God to gie him strength

Tae belt the weans on Monday!

‘Don’t be such a toffee nose, Netta! A’ve got something much better!’

What would Miss Armour Broun say if she heard such stuff come ringing out of Stratharvar Hall but, try as Netta might, Wilma wouldn’t spill the beans about what exactly she intended.