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‘I don’t know. You’re the first Jasper has found.’ She looked down at the dog. ‘Go find, Jasper,’ she told him. ‘Good dog.’ And the animal raced
off once more.

‘How many of you are there?’

‘There – there should be seven, but I think I might have been the last to get out. I came out third.’ He lifted his gaze towards the burning aircraft, its flames still lighting
the night sky. ‘Poor sods.’

‘Come, lean on me. I’ll take you back to the farmhouse.’

‘Are you sure? It could mean trouble for you.’

‘We’ll take that risk.’ She would like to have taken him to the little barn to hide him, but there was something already far more important – even than a British airman
– hidden there. Somewhere on the farm would have to do for tonight.

Another figure came stumbling through the darkness towards them, carrying his parachute.

‘Lewis – you OK?’ a voice came out of the gloom.

‘Yeah. I seem to be. Where’s Jimmy?’

‘Dunno. What shall I do with this?’

‘Give it to me.’ Beth could see Raoul still digging in the softened earth in one corner of the field. ‘My uncle is burying them.’

‘What’s she say?’ the newcomer asked his companion.

‘Give her the parachute. Her uncle is going to bury them.’

‘Are they going to help us?’ she heard the airman, whose name she didn’t yet know, ask as she took the bundle of white silk and hurried away.

‘I reckon,’ Lewis replied and there was no mistaking the fervent hope in his tone.

As Raoul and Beth pushed the two chutes into the deep hole he had dug, Beth whispered. ‘There’s another one somewhere. They’re talking about someone called Jimmy. They think
three got out of the plane. The rest . . .’ She couldn’t bring herself to say the words but Raoul understood.

‘We must hurry. That crash will have alerted someone in the village, no doubt.’

It was a close shave. Jasper had found the third airman – Jimmy – who was also miraculously unhurt, all three parachutes were buried and the five of them and the dog returned to the
farmhouse.

‘We can’t stay here,’ Lewis protested, as Raoul ushered them inside and offered them the bread and cheese and a cup of weak coffee which Marthe had prepared. In their absence,
she had dressed. ‘We don’t want to bring trouble on you.’ He understood French, but still spoke in English himself.

‘Bring the food,’ Raoul said. ‘I will take you to my pigsty. We’ve built a hiding place in the roof. You can get up to it by a ladder, which I must then remove. I regret
the smell will not be pleasant, but you should be safe there. The Germans are fastidious.’ He chuckled. ‘They don’t like to get their shiny boots dirty.’

The three airmen, whose names Beth now knew to be Lewis, Jimmy and Geoff, were safely in the loft and Raoul had just returned, locked the door and turned down the lamp, when they heard the
vehicles roar into the yard.

‘Quick! Upstairs. Get back into your night things and into bed. You, too, Marthe.’

‘What about you?’

‘I shall stay down here until you’ve had time, then I will open the door – if they knock, that is, which I’m sure—’

He had not finished his sentence before a loud banging on the door began and a voice shouted, ‘
Raus
.
Raus.
Out. Out. Open up.’

‘Hurry.’

‘But you’re dressed. Won’t they—?’

‘Go, Marthe, please.’

Whilst Beth and Marthe hurried upstairs, Raoul took off his jacket, his shoes and socks and loosened his shirt, so that it looked as if he’d just pulled some clothes on when he’d
heard the commotion. In her room, Beth stripped and put on her nightdress. Then she folded the clothes she’d been wearing neatly over the chair beside her narrow bed. Now she could hear that
Raoul had opened the back door and the soldiers were rushing into the house. Beth slipped into bed and turned on her side, her face away from the door, as the soldiers came pounding up the
stairs.

Archie lay in bed with his eyes wide open staring into the darkness as he listened to the bombers coming back from a raid in the early light of morning. One, two, three, he
counted, and then he could no longer distinguish the engines of individual aircraft as several flew in together. Edie lay beside him, fast asleep, undisturbed and untroubled by the noise overhead.
He wondered where they’d been and had they all come back. He doubted it – there weren’t many bombing raids that took place where all the aircraft came back safely. And then, as
the sounds died away, his thoughts turned – as they nearly always did – to Frank and Beth, and now to Shirley too. He missed them every bit as much as his wife did and he worried about
them, for perhaps he understood, even more than their mother did, just what danger they might all be in. He believed Shirley was still in England, but he knew Frank was abroad. And Beth –
well, he didn’t even know where she was.

Tomorrow he would have to go back to sea. He never said anything to Edie – or to anyone, for that matter – but he was more fearful every time he put out to sea now. He’d been
lucky so far, he knew, but just how long would that luck hold out?

The German soldiers ran riot through the farmhouse, crashing into all the rooms, upturning the beds, pulling furniture away from the walls. They did the same in the barns,
tipping over bins full of valuable animal feed, oblivious – or uncaring – of the damage they were causing. They found ladders and climbed into the hayloft, but – thankfully
– not one of them thought to look above the pigsty. For a frightening half-hour, they held Raoul, Marthe and Beth in the kitchen at gunpoint whilst they searched the property. Beth considered
that a fifteen-year-old would be so terrified that she would cling to Marthe and weep. Marthe wept too, but her tears were real and not put on as were Beth’s. Inside, the highly trained agent
was seething. She was frightened – of course she was – but her fear was for the farmer and his wife and the three airman. If they were found . . .

At last the soldiers gave up their search and reported to their superior – this time not Major Hartmann – that they could find nothing, not even a trace, of British fugitives.

Questioned, Raoul lifted his shoulders in a Gallic shrug. ‘I heard the aircraft crash and saw the fire.’

‘You didn’t go out to see if you could help them?’

Again, a shrug. ‘Who could have survived that?’ It was a reasonable comment and though the officer stared at him for a moment, he then turned away, seemingly satisfied. ‘You
would do well not to even think of aiding the enemy. You could be shot.’

Marthe let out a wail and buried her face in Beth’s shoulder.

Emile arrived late into the night, but Beth had stayed up, waiting for him, for she guessed he would come if he could. She had insisted that his parents went to bed, promising she would call
them if he came. He hugged her swiftly and then held her shoulders at arm’s length, gazing into her eyes. ‘You are all right? Maman and Papa too?’

‘We’re fine, but there are three British airmen hiding above your father’s pigsty.’

Emile smiled. ‘I helped him construct the hideout. He’s used it once or twice before you came. Can you send a message to London at once to request they send a light aircraft as soon
as they can? I don’t want my parents in any more danger than they already are, so I have the map references for a suitable field some distance from here belonging to another farmer who keeps
out of the way when a drop is being made and will deny all knowledge if questioned. But he is a loyal Frenchman and on our side.’

‘I’ll go now,’ Beth said at once.

‘I’ll come with you.’

Hand in hand – her hand felt so good clasped in his – they crept through the darkness, listening intently to the slightest sound. An owl swooped low over their heads, startling them,
but they pressed on. Outside the small barn they paused and glanced around. There was no sound, no lights anywhere.

‘Right,’ Emile said softly, ‘I’ll stay out here whilst you send the message about the airmen. You know what to say, but keep it as brief as you can.’

In the pitch black of the interior of the barn, Beth lit the candle she had brought and set it on a stone that jutted out from the wall. Then she removed the wireless from its hiding place,
setting up the aerial. The tapping out of the Morse code message echoed loudly in the stillness. Surely, she thought worriedly, it could be heard fields away, but she carried on. Her message sent,
they waited half an hour, standing outside with their arms around each other.

‘Oh Beth,’ Emile murmured, forgetting for once to use her codename, ‘when all this is over—’

At that moment, the wireless set began to bleep. You certainly pick your moment, London, Beth thought wryly and eased herself out of his warm embrace to step back into the barn. The answer was
that arrangements would be made and they would send a coded message on the night the Lysander would arrive over the normal wireless airwaves amongst the personal messages that were broadcast from
the BBC. The message would say, ‘Aunt Matilda has gone home on the 2 o’clock train’. This would give the local resistance group – Emile’s men – the expected time
of arrival. The number ‘two’ would be changed to whatever time the aircraft would be due. Despite the fact that Beth had told Kurt Hartmann that her uncle did not have a wireless set,
Raoul kept one hidden beneath the floorboards in his bedroom; something else the searching soldiers had not uncovered.

Beth stowed the transmitter behind the stones and removed the candle. ‘I’ll come back in the morning and make sure everything looks undisturbed. And now we’d better go and wake
your parents. Your mother would never forgive me if they missed your visit.’

An hour or so later, as they said their goodbyes at the gate, Beth whispered, ‘I will take any message to the dropping point in the oak tree just outside the village.’

‘If there are Germans about, go on into the town to see Bruce, but only if there is no other way. Henri Lafarge is trustworthy, but the less you are seen in town making contact with Bruce,
the better.’ Emile held her close for a moment and kissed her forehead. Releasing her swiftly, he turned away and was immediately lost in the darkness. She could not even watch him go, but
the feel of his lips still tingled on her forehead.

‘1943 already, Lil, and still no end to the war,’ Edie said disconsolately as they walked together to the WVS a few days after New Year. They had celebrated
– if that could be the right word in such circumstances – the turning of the year very quietly, just the three of them in Lil’s house.

‘I know, duck, but let’s hope this year will bring an end to it all, eh?’

‘I can’t see it myself. I talked to Archie about it before he went back this morning. He isn’t hopeful.’

‘I’ve had a letter from Irene. She’s heard from Frank and though he doesn’t give much away, she reckons he’s in North Africa.’

‘Africa? Whatever is he doing there?’

‘Perhaps he was part of the British Eighth army that triumphed over Rommel two months ago. Now wouldn’t that be something if your Frank had been part of that?’

‘Is he all right?’ Edie was hungry for this kind news – news of her family and of Frank’s safety. She didn’t really care what battles he’d been in, just so
long as he’d come through them unscathed.

‘He’s fine. Very cheerful and asking her to send photos of Tommy. The little chap won’t know him when he gets back and your Frank is so worried he won’t take to
him.’

‘’Course he will. Frank’s his daddy. How could he not take to him?’

Lil pulled a face. ‘It’s going to be very difficult for them all to settle back into ordinary life once it’s all over, you know, Edie.’

‘Why? I should think they’d be only too glad to get back home to their families. I know I can’t wait to get ’em all back under my roof. Oh look, there’s Ursula. I
wonder what she’s doing out this time of the day? You’d think she’d be at work, wouldn’t you?’

‘She’s freelance, isn’t she? I mean, she doesn’t actually work for anyone sitting in an office, does she? She’ll be out looking for a story, I’ve no
doubt.’

‘Ursula, Ursula, duck,’ Edie raised her voice. The girl looked round, startled for a moment, but when she saw the two women she knew, her face relaxed into a smile.

‘You didn’t come round on New Year’s Eve. Are you all right?’

Ursula nodded. ‘I didn’t like to. You have all been so good to me even now that Shirley is away. It was kind of Mr and Mrs Charlton to invite me for Christmas Day and I feel so
embarrassed because I have not enough money to buy you something for all your kindness.’

‘Now, don’t you worry about that, duck. We’re only too glad to have you with us. I don’t like to think of anyone being on their own, especially at Christmas. Have you
heard from your own folks?’

Suddenly, Ursula’s smile faded and her face took on a closed expression. ‘No – I – I don’t hear from them. Letters are difficult to and from –
Switzerland.’

‘Are they?’ Edie asked innocently. ‘I wonder why. I thought Switzerland was neutral.’

‘It is, but perhaps mail has to come through occupied areas – I don’t know. I just know I don’t hear from them.’

‘Then I’m sorry for you. There’s nothing worse than not hearing from your family – and I should know because I haven’t heard from Beth for weeks now. Still,’
she said, trying to put a brave face on it, ‘Lil’s heard from Irene and, through her, indirectly from Frank. Shirley writes every week, bless her –’

Lil hid her smile. Shirley was rising in her mother’s estimation every day because she wrote regularly and came home whenever she could.

Shirley was having a whale of a time. It seemed totally inappropriate to Lil that someone should be actually enjoying the war and yet Shirley was doing so. She had been drafted to become part of
a mixed team on an anti-aircraft battery somewhere. They suspected she was in London, but Shirley was being very secretive.

‘I can’t tell you where I am, Mam,’ she’d put in her last letter. ‘“Careless Talk” and all that.’

‘– And I know from Irene that Reggie’s all right. Tell you what, Ursula,’ Edie added impetuously, ‘we’ll go to the pictures tonight the three of us – my
treat – and afterwards you can come and have a bit of supper with me and Lil. How does that sound?’