‘Well, I don’t suppose it would hurt just until you feel a bit more comfortable with things,’ John agreed amiably with a smile at Edith. ‘It’s a nice big bed so there’s plenty of room for the both of you. What do you think, Edith?’

‘I suppose so,’ she answered hesitantly and instantly the two children hopped into bed and pulled the blankets up to their chins, staring at the two adults warily. ‘Would you like me to read you a story?’ Edith asked, advancing on them with a book in her hand, but Bobby shook his head.

‘We ain’t babies, yer know … But yer could leave it ’ere fer us to look at the pictures, I s’pose.’

Edith gently placed the book on the bed and backed away, as did John.

‘Right, children, we’ll see you in the morning,’ he said kindly at the door. ‘Do you both like bacon and eggs? Our chickens lay delicious eggs. Oh, and I have to say Cook’s porridge is very good as well, if you prefer that.’

Both children nodded vigorously, and the adults quietly left the room.

‘Poor little mites,’ Edith said softly once they were out on the landing. ‘Peggy seems scared of everything, and I don’t know what Bobby thinks we’re going to do to her, but he hardly lets her out of his sight.’

‘I think it would be safe to say they’re both used to being knocked about, if the bruises all over them are anything to go by,’ John answered solemnly. ‘But give them a little time and patience and with fresh air and good food inside them they might come out of their shells.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ she said as she left him to return to the kitchen.

Later, she peeped in the bedroom to check on them and smiled to see them curled up together, snoring gently in the big feather bed. They looked so innocent that it brought a lump to her throat as she gently closed the door and crept away.

The next morning, dressed in the clothes Sunday and Edith had sorted for them, the two children were almost unrecognisable and once more they tucked into their food as if they hadn’t eaten for a month.

Giles, who had been busy working in the stables when they arrived, watched with amusement.

‘So, who are you then?’ Bobby asked in his own blunt way. ‘Do yer work ’ere?’

‘Well, yes I do, but I live here as well,’ Giles told him good-­naturedly. ‘This is my grandfather’s house, but I run the stables.’

‘Do you ’ave any horses ’ere?’ Bobby asked, spooning yet more porridge into his mouth. He was like a bottomless pit when it came to food.

‘Yes, quite a number of them, although I don’t know for how long now that we’re at war,’ Giles answered glumly.