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involuntary shudder, Etta stared at the condemned building and the only thing that helped mask her disgust was the urgent news she had to impart. “Patsy,” she began hesitantly. “Listen. You’ve got to come. Dinah needs you. I just couldn’t get her calmed.”
    Patsy’s hand flew to her mouth. “No Tam, is it?”
    Etta nodded. “Telegram hasn’t exactly said he’s been killed – but it does say he’s missing and – well, as you know, that usually means – at least presumed …”
    Patsy scratched her head. “Oh Gawd, he’s the only one I know that would put up wi’ my Dinah. Good grief! You ken what this means?” Etta shook her head. “Just that I’m gonnae be left wi’ her. Isn’t life one blinking boo-row?” Whenever Patsy said “boo-row” she really meant “bugger”. Etta understood and nodded.
    A long silence followed, while the two women just stared at the walls, the floor, the ceiling – anywhere but at each other. Finally, Patsy said, “I’ll get my coat. Oh I’m forgetting I’ll hae to tell poor Mary … Och for sure, nae mother should lose her bairn. Against nature, that is!”
    The women had just left the stair when a young girl raced up to them and asked, “D’ye ken where Mrs Kelly bides?”
    “I’m Mrs Kelly,” said Patsy and was surprised when the lassie pushed a note into her hand before starting to flee back the way she’d come.
    “Remember,” the lassie hollered back. “It wasnae me that gied you that letter!”
    Patsy unscrewed the paper and read Tess’s heartfelt plea. “Well,” she said to herself, “you bairnies’ll just need to bide and thole it the noo. Your mother and your Granny Glass are the first priorities!”

    Another three long wearisome weeks had passed since Tess asked her pal to deliver the letter to her granny. On their fourth Saturday afternoon in captivity (as they saw it) the children were wondering what they could do next, as it seemed evident that either Granny Kelly never got the letter or else she didn’t believe they needed rescuing. Running away and trying to walk back home had become their favoured solution and they were busily working out how best to do this, while the rain came pelting down the barn roof, when the door was suddenly flung open. The three children huddled together, thinking they were about to be summoned to do some more back-breaking work, when a familiar and beloved voice called out, “You in here, Tess, Johnny, Senga?”
    The children all shouted, “Goody, goody! It’s Granny,” and they all began to scramble quickly down from the loft.
    “So it’s true you’re being kept like pigs?”
    Johnny nodded as he took his granny by the arm and guided her over to the ladder, but Patsy only climbed enough of the steps to let her see into the loft where the three palliasses and the three worn blankets were lying side by side. Angrily, she descended and gathered her three grandchildren into her arms. As she rocked them to and fro they were quite shocked to hear her mutter, “Bastards! Bloody bastards!”
    Releasing the three children at length, Patsy told them to go and collect their things. “Everything?” asked Senga, with growing excitement.
    “Everything. Not another minute do you spend here. And once you’ve packed everything, meet me outside.”
    Tess’s eyes popped when she emerged into the daylight to see that her granny was walking into the farmer’s house, accompanied by a police sergeant. Signalling to Senga and Johnny to follow, she quickly made her way over to the window, where the three children had a grandstand view of the kitchen and the outcome of Granny’s meeting with the farmer and his wife.
    “What do you mean by treating my grandchildren no better than hogs?”
    The farmer’s wife tried to put the table between herself and the irate Patsy. “We’ve treated them well,” she replied defensively.
    “Well?” screeched Patsy. “You call having them sleep in a barn with the animals