Olena had been worried about recognising us, but Rob, my resourceful husband, said he’d wear his Panama hat.

Olena had been worried about recognising us, but Rob, my resourceful husband, said he’d wear his Panama hat. Unsurprisingly, it was the only one to be seen in grubby old Luton airport, late on a chilly Saturday night. When, at last, we spotted her small, neat figure, we felt a strong wave of pure relief. She fell into our arms, beaming and laughing, and it was, honestly, like welcoming home a long-lost child. She introduced us to her son Yuri (not her daughter Yulia, as I wrote here several weeks ago – my mistake) who is a terrific little chap of eight, with a smile as wide as his mother’s, and we brought them wearily home, not long before dawn.

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