‘Yes – and I’m sorry I had to do that, but anyone can see that sacrifices have to be made if people like you and me are to have the future we deserve. Anyone can see that welcoming the invasion is the quickest route to peace. The only right side in this war is the winning side.’ He was even closer to her now. ‘And I want you to be on that side with me, Mags. It’s not too late. Our police – these idiots – they’ll have no power at all when Hitler’s army arrive – and they’re on their way right now! I will look after you, I promise.’ He reached out a filthy, handcuffed paw and took my sister’s hand. He was looking steadily at her as he lifted her fingers towards his lips and kissed them.

I studied her face. I waited.

I knew what was coming, because I knew my sister, and I knew that look. ‘I don’t really need looking after, thank you, Michael, and even if I did, I don’t think you’d be in a position to do so,’ she said, pulling her hand away very gently, and then wiping it on her coat in disgust. ‘After all, it’s the death penalty for traitors.’

Chapter 47

47

It was after midnight when Grandpa Joe got home. He came into the cottage, pale and exhausted, his white hair dripping with rain. As soon as the all-clear had been given, he had walked all the way back to us from Dover, through the cold and rain. I thought that it was the sort of magnificent thing my Pa would have done.

‘I knew it!’ he said, when we told him about everything that had happened. ‘I knew that Baron woman was up to something. Months ago, I saw her out early in the morning, heading to the telephone box on the Dover Road. She made a habit of it, and I thought it was so odd, I even started writing it all down. Like the posters say – you know, report anything unusual or suspicious. But then a pair of monkeys turned up one morning . . .’

Mags and I looked at each other. I felt my cheeks redden as I remembered Mags scampering across the grass to steal Joe’s scribbled note.

‘The whole thing went clean out of my head after your Pa died . . .’ And he shook his head, angry at himself. ‘Why on earth did I trust her? Why did I leave you alone? You could have been killed last night, the pair of you.’

‘We’re all right, though, Grandpa Joe,’ I said. And then I thought about what he’d just said. ‘So the MB on that piece of paper was Mrs Baron – not Michael?’

‘Meredith Baron,’ he said. ‘There was a picture of her in the local newspaper and I’d seen her in the village a few times.’