I have done a number of things in my life that the Army gave me medals for.

None of them ever made me as proud as the morning I found an uneaten bread roll under my daughter’s pillow, and understood that she had, at last, begun to believe she was safe.

I have thought a great deal about why the bread roll moved me more than any medal, and I think it comes down to what it actually represented, which was the difference between telling someone they are safe and their body finally believing it.

I had told Hannah she was safe a hundred times.