Now, in the drawing room, the other girls were laughing and chattering away. No one had asked Maggie how she’d spent the afternoon, neither had anyone mentioned seeing her with Jack Rosman. She appeared to have got away with it. She hoped so. She wanted to keep it – whatever ‘it’ was – to herself for a little longer.

When Miss Sharp got up from her seat and went upstairs to fetch her Vogue, the others took the chance to talk about her.

‘Say, Miss Sharp’s awfully keen on The League, isn’t she?’ Nancy said.

‘Cynthia,’ Pam corrected. ‘Out of working hours, we’re to call her Cynthia.’

‘The League? Oh, you can say that again!’ Elsie said. ‘I’m bloomin’ freezing in that room at night because Cynthia insists on having the window open. Fresh air’s good for you, she says.’

‘Gosh, you knit awfully strangely,’ Nancy said suddenly breaking off from the conversation and frowning at Maggie from the sofa. ‘Look, you two. No, don’t stop, Maggie. Show them. See how she puts the needle in underneath there, and then hooks the wool round, the wrong way? You’re not left-handed, are you?’

Maggie shrugged and looked down at the six-inch square of knitting in her hands. She’d never thought about it before.

‘Left-handed? No. I’ve always knitted this way. It’s the way my mother taught me. Perhaps it’s the Ger—’ she stopped herself. She felt suddenly breathless.

‘Perhaps it’s the what?’ Nancy asked, shuffling forward in her seat.

Miss Sharp had reappeared. ‘What?’ she asked, seeing them all staring at Maggie. ‘What’s happening?’

Maggie reddened. ‘It’s just the way I’ve always done it,’ she said, grateful for the low lighting in the room.

Nancy sniffed and crossed her legs. ‘Well, I think it looks jolly awkward. I’ll show you the proper way some time.’

Maggie exhaled. She peered down at her handiwork, pretending to concentrate on the next stitch. That had been a close shave.

Even in the evenings, when they were supposed to be relaxing, she had to watch what she said. She couldn’t tell her colleagues she was half-German; it was hard enough fitting in as it was. No, that had to remain a secret, for as long as she was here.

Chapter 16

When the library door burst open, Ray was ten feet up a rolling ladder. The book he’d just found, after an hour’s search, was propped between the shelf and his knee and he’d been carefully turning the pages. Blast! He’d jumped as the door opened and the page had ripped.

He’d found the library after dinner. Shelves packed with books lined the walls from floor to ceiling and there was a musty smell that reminded him of his nan’s.