What was a German child doing here and who did he belong to? She had to find out more. Perhaps his parents were here too. But why?

Maggie grasped the teddy tightly and set off after him down the passageway. It was dimly lit and there were other passages and doors leading off at regular intervals. The only sound was the echoing clickety click of her heels on the stone floor. There was no sign of the child.

After a minute or two, Maggie’s resolve started to weaken. She was on the verge of giving up and turning back, when she reached the end of the corridor – a stone wall – and, on the right-hand side, a flight of steps, twisting upwards, identical to those at the other end of the house.

A movement caught her eye. There he was! The little boy was standing a few steps up, gripping the banister and gazing at her coyly from beneath his curls. Perhaps he’d realised he’d dropped the toy and had been about to retrace his steps.

‘Du hast deinen Teddybär vergessen,’ Maggie said gently, making the bear’s arm wave at him.

The child almost smiled.

‘Wie heisst du?’ she asked again and this time he told her his name.

‘Rudi.’

‘Rudi? Das ist aber ein guter Name,’ she said.

She wanted to ask him so many questions but he was only about four years old. First, she had to earn his trust.

She stepped forward to give him the bear and he stretched out a hand and took it, gripping it tightly in his fist.

‘Wie heisst der Bär?’ She pointed to the teddy.

‘Er gehört mir nicht.’

The bear wasn’t his. So, there must be at least one other child, unless—

‘Oh, there you are, you little scamp!’

Maggie jumped at the sound of a man’s voice coming from the stairwell above them. It was a plummy, confident voice but it didn’t sound like Lord Ashford. It was someone younger. The boy’s father, perhaps?

She oughtn’t to be here, in this part of the house, talking to this child, she was sure. She was going to be in trouble. Maggie glanced back down the corridor, the way she’d come, but there wasn’t time to move.

A pair of shiny black shoes appeared first on the steps, followed by navy trousers with a sharp crease – an RAF uniform – and a right arm held up in a sling.

It was the airman.

Maggie swallowed. Heat was rising in her face and her legs felt weak. She stepped nearer to the child and held onto the banister for support.

He stopped a few steps above them and smiled. He seemed quite unconcerned to find her there. Oh, fiddlesticks! Her face was scorching now. It always gave her away.