It was early in March and she and Sunday had just spent the morning hanging curtains in the lodge. Cissie had found them stored in a trunk in the attic in Treetops and, now that she had cut them down to size and laboriously stitched them to fit the windows, they looked grand. They were chintz in shades of pink and red with pretty roses all over them and they made the rooms feel warm and cosy. The fires they had been lighting daily had dispersed the damp and now the three bedrooms each boasted a bed, a small wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a washstand complete with jugs and bowls.

‘They look lovely. You’ve done a wonderful job on them, Cissie,’ Sunday answered gratefully. But as pretty as the place now looked, she knew that actually living there was going to be a massive lifestyle change for herself and the girls. They were all used to the convenience of an indoor bathroom for a start and she dreaded to think how they would cope with just a jug and bowl to wash in, let alone a tin bath!

As if she could read her thoughts, Cissie patted her arm. ‘You’ll get used to it,’ she told her. ‘An’ it’s still bigger than my cottage.’ She was now in the process of making the beds and, hoping to take Sunday’s mind off things, she told her, ‘My George reckons this civil war in Spain could affect us eventually.’

‘Really?’ Sunday frowned. ‘I don’t see how something that’s happening all that way away could.’

‘Well, George ain’t usually wrong,’ Cissie said glumly, then changing the subject she tucked the last blanket in and said, ‘I reckon that’s about it. There’s just yours an’ the girls’ clothes to come now. We could perhaps get them to start bringing them here this evenin’. Saturday will be here afore yer know it.’

Saturday was the day they had agreed John Willerby, his grandson and his staff would all move into Treetops and Sunday was alternately looking forward to it and dreading it. Half of her just wanted the move to be over, while the other half wondered how she would bear it.

‘Hm, I suppose we’d better head back and get some lunch on the go now then,’ Sunday said as she straightened the eiderdown on her bed. In the bedrooms she and Cissie had scrubbed the floorboards to within an inch of their lives and laid down rugs that they’d also found in the attic back at the house. Some of them were a little threadbare but they certainly softened the rooms and made it more comfortable underfoot. Since living at Treetops Sunday had rarely ventured into the attics but when she did, she had discovered that it was like an Aladdin’s cave.