A knock sounded on the door of the thatched roof cottage. The young man inside sighed with fake exasperation, and pulled himself to his feet.

He walked over to the door, pulling it open to the sea of bluebells. In the middle of the abundance of flowers stood a tiny black-haired child. She stood with a suitcase in hand, a look of determination on her face.

"Mum loves the baby more than she loves me, so I'm going to live with you from now on," Anwen said, with a look of almost laughable resolution. He did laugh. I full, kind laugh that children always found comforting.

"Come in," he gestured in the direction of the kitchen, "Oh infant of impudence. You may refresh yourself before I direct your small person back to your home."

The pair walked into the dark interior of the cottage, the young girl wailing as she went, "But Uncle Abdullah, I'm NOT going home!"