25th November 1945

"Minerva, could you go and stop your brothers from chasing Oscar please?" asked Isobel, her voice shaking only slightly.

The ten-year-old looked at her mother then at her father before finally obediently sliding off her stool and making her way out of the kitchen.

"Close the door behind you please, lass," called Robert warily.

Minerva did as she was told however the sound of tense voices was still audible as she climbed up the stairs. Biting her lip, she hurried to the first floor of the manse and followed the sound of giggles and scampering feet, which she knew belonged to her brothers. Pushing open the door of her father's study, she was greeted by the sight of Malcolm and Robert shrieking with laughter as they ran around the room trying to catch the cat.

"Stop torturing the poor cat," admonished Minerva as she picked up a frightened Oscar. "Look at him, he's terrified!"

Robert and Malcolm stopped running about.

"We were only playing," explained Robert, pushing some hair out of his sweaty face. "Right, Malcolm?"

"Yeah," Malcolm agreed earnestly. "Oscar was having fun!"

Minerva looked sternly at the two boys, however, their innocent expressions made her anger short-lived.

"If you go brush your teeth now, I'll read you a story before bed," she said.

Her brothers perked up and Malcolm squealed excitedly. "Can it be the Santa Claus book?"

"In July?" Minerva said, a small smile tugging at her lips. Malcolm pouted and Minerva finally grinned. "All right. But go brush your teeth first."

Malcolm shared a triumphant look with his brother, before scampering out of the room en route to the bathroom; his brother close on his tail.

"Thank you Minerva!" cried one of them from the hallway.

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Come now Oscar," she said gently, giving the cat an affectionate kiss on the head, "let's get you some dinner."

Carrying the now calm cat down with her, she trudged down the stairs and was about to open the kitchen door when she heard her father's voice echo from within.

"– and let her go to a boarding school in a year's time!"

"We have to!" retorted Isobel's angry voice.

Minerva pressed her eye against the keyhole to watch the scene before her. Her father was pacing up and down the kitchen; his glasses still perched on his long nose. Isobel was sitting at the table her forehead resting in her hands.

"Why can't she just go to one of the local schools?" said Robert, his voice rising slightly.

"Hush now Robert, the children will hear us!" pleaded Isobel. "You know why we can't send any of them there."

There was a pause as Robert stopped pacing and closed his eyes. "Are you sure they're all..." he waved his hand as he searched for the word, "magic as you say?"

"Yes, I am certain of it," Isobel replied.

Robert sighed and walked back over to the table and sat down opposite his wife. "Malcolm's only five-"

"And he has managed to get in all locked rooms without so much as a key!" Isobel said. "And no matter how many times we cut Robert's hair it looks longer by the time we come back home. And Minerva…" Isobel sighed, "you remember Minerva as a baby?"

"Bagpipes playing by themselves and all those floating toys in her bedroom," said Robert, sagging in his chair. Both were silent for a moment until a small smile appeared on Robert's lips. "Remember that time she got Oscar to bring her a whole packet of biscuits? All the way into her room," he added with a chuckle.

Isobel smiled weakly and nodded. "I do," she said quietly.

Robert reached out and held her hand. "I'm sorry," he said.

"You shouldn't have to apologise, Robert," Isobel told him seriously. She then shook her head and got up. "I'll make sure they are all in bed upstairs."

Robert nodded and smiled. Isobel returned it, though it did not quite reach her eyes. As her parents started to get up Minerva quickly moved away from the door as quietly as she could.