My eyes were drawn towards the sea. There was no sign of a German U-boat – in fact, there had been no more sightings since the day of the crabbing competition – but the Wyrm was there, as it always was. Its long, serpentine shape quivered hungrily beneath the waves. The Daughters seemed to be looking at the water with me, staring down at their cruel enemy, never letting the Wyrm out of their sight. The stones versus the sea-dragon. The Wyrm may have petrified the Daughters for thousands of years, but in that moment I had an oddly certain feeling that the battle was not yet over.

When we returned to the cottage, the grocery box was empty and our tummies were full. Mags led the way, carrying the blankets, then came Pa and Mutti with the empty box and bags. I brought up the rear (determined to get the last few drops out of the cocoa flask).

‘Really, Frederick,’ Mutti said, ‘that was so lovely, but for the rest of the week we will be living off vegetable soup!’

‘I know,’ he replied, with a strange little laugh. ‘But it was such a beautiful morning . . .’

‘It’s the war,’ she said, and they both stopped walking. ‘So much darkness. It makes you want to hold every bright moment.’

‘Yes.’ He pulled her close to him and kissed her on the forehead, closing his eyes very tightly. ‘It’s the war, my darling.’

Then Mags called back over her shoulder, ‘Tomorrow, Pa. You promise?’

Pa held Mutti close for a moment longer, then he swiftly wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. He took a quick breath.

‘Yes. Tomorrow, Mags. I promise.’

But the next day brought something else entirely.

Chapter 11

11

The sound of the anti-aircraft guns ripped through my dreams, splitting the silence of the dawn – an impossibly loud CRACK CRACK CRACK.

I heard Mags fling herself out of bed and run straight to the window.

I stayed exactly where I was. I clamped the pillow around my head and lay perfectly still under the blankets, curled up like a hedgehog, my breathing quick and shallow.

‘There’s a plane!’ Mags shouted. ‘A German plane! It’s—’

And then came the explosion. It was much more than just a sudden, deafening boom – it was a sensation too. It was as if the explosion happened inside my chest, inside my head. Everything buzzed with the force of the blast, everything was shaken to its core. There was a high-pitched ringing in my ears now, and Mutti was shouting, ‘GIRLS! HERE! GAS MASKS!’

But there was no need for the gas masks as it turned out – there was no gas, and there had been no bomb.

‘It’s CRASHED!’ Mags bellowed. ‘The plane just crashed into Mr White’s cabbage field! Our guns must have hit it!’