Harvey had heard the sobs too and with a whine of distress looked up at Ron in appeal.

Ron gently took his head in his hands and looked into his eyes. ‘I’ll sort it, Harvey,’ he said. ‘Go to your bed and stay there.’

Harvey’s tail was between his legs as he reluctantly obeyed. Ron shut the bedroom door and quietly went up the steps into the kitchen.

The sight of his little Peggy huddled in the chair and sobbing her heart out was too much to bear, and he crossed the room in three strides to scoop her up into his arms.

‘I’ve got you now, wee girl,’ he soothed, settling into the chair with Peggy on his lap, her head nestled into his neck. ‘There we are, there we are. It’s all right. I’m here to look after you.’

It broke his heart to hear her crying, for although he suspected she’d spent many a night sobbing into her pillow, she’d never been so openly distressed. He experienced a momentary stab of fear at the thought she might have received bad news of Jim or one of the family, but it soon became clear that she was simply beaten down by the worry and fear this war had brought, and that Sarah’s plight had proved to be the breaking of her.

Ron held her in his arms as she told him about the letters Sarah had received that day, and the choice the girl had made. He listened to her worries for the girl and her young American, and held her close as she listed all the numerous worries and fears that had beset her since the children were sent away and Jim was called up.

‘Now, Peggy, girl, you’re letting all of this get on top of you,’ he said once the flow of words and tears came to an end. He stroked her hair and could feel the tension in her slight body, and the tremor of her distress running through her.

‘You’ve spent your life loving and caring for us all, and once this war began you took on those girls and treated them as daughters. You’ve listened to our woes, consoled, advised and stood by us in times of trouble – and now it’s our turn to look after you.’

‘I don’t need looking after,’ she muttered.

‘Yes. You do,’ he said firmly, lifting her from his lap and settling her into the other armchair. He took her hands in his. ‘We’ve all been selfish,’ he said. ‘Too taken up with our own lives and worries to see that you’re wilting beneath the weight of all the responsibility we heap upon your slender wee shoulders. And it’s going to stop.’

‘But Sarah and Rita—’