‘So that’s how it’s done then, that’s where all my rubbers have gone,’ sniffed Netta. Miss Snakelegs had pulled a fast one and shown up their little routines for what they were: lumpen efforts. The audience loved this turn, cheering, clapping and shouting for an encore. But Wilma bobbed and dashed off the stage into the darkness.

Supper was served in the schoolroom and everyone basked in the success of the evening. A goodly sum had been raised and all the children had been given a Red Cross badge for their efforts. The first Christmas of wartime would not be so bad after all. They returned home in the farm van, tired but exhilarated. Netta said goodnight to Wilma with a little more respect.

‘You were really good the night. Who taught you to knot yersel into a ball?’

‘I went tae the circus and watched the acrobats. I sneaked in three times and watched them doing warm-ups round the back. I borrowed the costume from one of Maw’s friends. She does a dancing class. Do you like Shirley Temple?’

‘I like Anne Shirley better.’

‘What picture is she in?’

‘She’s in a book. I’ll lend it to you, if you like?’ Netta paused. ‘Will you teach me how to do walkovers?’

‘You’ll have to bend in the middle – you’re skinny but you cannae bend. Loosen yer back and arch slowly, follow yer hands… but it’s too cold now. Never do it cold or you’ll rick yer back.’

‘Did you enjoy our show?’ asked Netta, watching Wilma undress without taking off any underlayers.

‘I did so but it’s not the real thing, is it? I want to go on a real stage and wear real make-up.’

‘Peg says the stage’s no very respectable, but she’s never been to one so take nae notice of her…’

‘Why do you call yer maw, Peg?’ asked Wilma jumping into the bed.

‘She’s ma stepmother. I tried to call her Auntie Peggy for a while. If I had a real mother I wouldn’t want to be far away from her, like you twos.’

‘Aye, and one o’ these afternoons ma maw will come for us to go hame. There’s nothing much to do here, is there, except read books and go to kirk?’

As if her sighs had floated away like prayers northwards, just before Hogmanay a red-faced woman, round as a barrel but with neat ankles, arrived one morning at the farm to collect her children. Isa Dixey thanked Angus and Peg courteously for their hospitality as the children melted into her coat and she engulfed them in hugs, making Netta feel sad that no one did that to her. ‘They’re away hame with me the now. You think yer doin’ yer best for them but I canna sleep for want of them. God bless yous and a Guid New Year to one and all!’