‘Oh, I knaw as you’ll be well received, lass. Them’s very proud of your war-work and feel as though you became one of them during that time. It made it easier for the womenfolk whose sons went to war, to knaw as you were out there an’ all.’

Mags blushed. She hadn’t the heart to dispel this misconception, as there hadn’t been many British in Belgium at the beginning of the war, when she had been a VAD, or Voluntary Aid worker, there. And besides, there was so much of that time she wanted to forget that she preferred not to talk about it.

Christmas was upon them before Mags knew it. As expected, Harold didn’t want to join them until January. He said he wanted to stay in the hotel, to be close to his family home for one last Christmas. Mags didn’t like this, but she understood, making her mind up to hang on to the fact that her father had relented and had brought forward the day they could marry. Not that she needed his consent, but she wanted him to be able to cope with it all. And so their wedding was set for February. Mags hoped that when Harold did arrive, it would be with the news that he would stay forever, although she accepted that he might have to make short visits to London to oversee the rebuilding of his home.

‘Is that everything, Betsy?’

‘Aye, we have a present for all the young ’uns and a hamper for each family. You’ve done the community proud – they’ll be queuing up to work at your mill, when word gets out about this and the improved conditions.’

‘Ha, that’s if we have work for them. You know yourself that the recession is beginning to bite our trade, too. But we won’t think about that now. I’m eager to get the delivery done.’

A fluttering of snow met them as they went outside and got into the car. They were to follow the horse and cart to the church hall, where the goods were to be distributed.

The atmosphere when they arrived was charged with excitement. There were no men present, just mothers and children. Betsy had warned Mags that would be the case. But no matter, for the men hadn’t forbidden acceptance of the gifts, and that’s all she could ask for.

By the time all was done, Mags ached from saying ‘Merry Christmas’ so many times and having her hand shaken, but happiness lay in her at having contributed to spreading joy amongst them. More than that, the acceptance she’d met with had made her feel like one of them, instead of a remote benefactor.

‘I really enjoyed that, Betsy. I met some lovely women. And look at all the wonderful drawings the children have made, to say thank you. I will treasure them.’

‘Your ma would have been proud of you – though a bit jealous an’ all, I shouldn’t wonder, as she was always held in such awe that no one hardly spoke, except to say ta. Eeh, lass, they were gossiping away to you as if you were born amongst them. It were good to see.’