She ran to the top of the stairs and cried down, ‘Oh, losh! I cannae find my lines or my birth certificate. I must have left them at the digs or on the station. They’re not in my bag or my case. What shall I do?’

She started to wail with such a noise the farmhands rushed into the yard to see what the racket was about.

‘Are you sure your hubby’s not got them, hen?’ shouted one from the kitchen door. Netta played to the gallery with her sniffles and frenzy until Father himself waved his hand. ‘You can ring the Office and get another copy. Don’t get yerself in such a fankle!’

‘No, I’ll wait and see if they’re handed in. I can use my old ration book here but I wanted everyone to know I’m Mrs Hunter.’

‘Tell the postie then. He’s better than any notice in the Galloway News. Either way the whole district’ll soon know yer business, Netta. Go to the Food Office, they’ll give you advice. It’s only a slip of paper and can easily be replaced.’

Netta nodded and sniffed and her heart leaped with relief.

*

It was to be one of the longest weeks of her life. Time dragged by so slowly when each second she kept looking at her wrist watch to check it hadn’t stopped. Peg and Father were being understanding for once, not quizzing her, relieved she was back from her holiday in England: the official version of her first disappearance. Then the story changed to a surprise wedding before her husband went abroad, and a trip next week to Dumfries to see him off down south. The news was whispered from shop to farm to kirk and back. Angus drove her into town to catch the train and Netta dressed in her last pair of silk stockings and her new rigout. The necklace she had returned sheepishly to the bottom drawer, hoping it had not been missed.

The train was held up outside Dumfries by troop movements. Convoys of soldiers were piling into compartments, heading south with kitbags and cheery waves out of windows to anything in a skirt. She searched for the familiar bonnets of the Borderers, for the Lenzie tartan, patch on the sleeve, searching for one kent face among the crowds. No one could find anyone else in this crush and Rae had not promised to come to Dumfries anyway. There was just time to collect the thin gold band from the second-hand jeweller’s before she took a bus to Gretna Green village.