However, the sombre mood that had settled across the table didn’t last for long because at that moment John glanced towards the window and saw the local farmer’s truck ploughing through the snow in the drive.

‘Ah.’ He grinned. ‘Now I have to go and see Mr Wilcox in the kitchen for a moment and then when you’ve finished eating, I want you all to come through and I shall hopefully have another present for you children.’

The mood lifted instantly as the children stared at him excitedly.

‘What is it?’ Thomas asked eagerly as John headed to the door, but John merely laughed.

‘You’ll know soon enough. Now finish your food.’ And with that he was gone, leaving the children in an agony of anticipation.

‘I bet he’s got Farmer Wilcox to make us a new sledge,’ Daisy piped up excitedly, but Thomas shook his head.

‘It won’t be that. We’ve already got one each with the new one that George made us.’

Sunday smiled indulgently. ‘Well, why don’t you just do as John suggested and finish your pudding then we can all go through and find out, can’t we?’

Within minutes the rest of the food in their dishes had disappeared like magic, just in time to see the farmer’s truck trundling off down the drive again.

‘Please may we leave the table?’ Thomas asked, already clambering down, and the adults nodded and followed behind as the children raced along the hallway.

They entered the kitchen to find John sitting at a chair with a large cardboard box at his feet.

‘So, who wants to have a guess at what’s in here then?’ he teased as the children all stared at it curiously, but the words had barely left his mouth when the box suddenly moved and each of the children started.

Laughing, John bent down and opened the lid and instantly a tiny bundle of fur, its tail wagging furiously, spilled out onto the floor.

‘It’s a puppy!’ Thomas cried ecstatically as he dropped to his knees and began to fondle the silky ears with a rapturous expression on his little face.

‘A Golden Labrador puppy to be precise,’ John laughed. ‘I picked him out of the litter for you about four weeks ago, but you must all share him and take care of him. We grown-ups have enough to do.’

All three children were down on their knees now, giggling uncontrollably as the puppy jumped up and tried to lick every part of them he could reach.

‘Oh, Uncle John, thank you,’ they chorused. ‘But what’s his name?’

John shook his head and they all noticed then that Peggy sat back on her heels. They guessed that she would be thinking of her Skippy, the dog that had died with Bobby.

‘Why don’t we see if Peggy has any good suggestions?’ John suggested kindly and Peggy smiled shyly.