It took her a moment before she could say anything. ‘I’ve been summoned to a tribunal, Pet,’ she said at last.

‘A what?’

‘A sort of trial. I have to go to court.’

Chapter 13

13

Because Mutti had been born in Germany she was officially an ‘enemy alien’, and every enemy alien in the country now had to be officially assessed and categorized according to the risk they represented to the security of Great Britain. The three categories were A, B and C.

Category A aliens were considered a serious threat and were to be locked up in internment camps; category Bs were not to be locked up, but they faced restrictions on where they could live and what they could do; category C aliens were not considered dangerous at all and were free to continue their lives as normal.

In the next village, there lived a nice old couple called Mr and Mrs Miller (they had changed their name from Müller to Miller when they moved to England from Germany). Mr Miller was a writer and his wife was a musician. They had disagreed with a lot of the things that had started to happen in Germany and it had become too dangerous for them to stay there. They had decided to leave and start a new life somewhere else before it was too late. Their tribunal had taken place just a few days before and they had been classified as category C, so they were free to return to their home.

‘There is nothing to worry about,’ old Mr Miller said to Mutti, as the four of us stood on the sunny steps of Dover Magistrates’ Court that morning. ‘This is a good country – a free country. They will see the truth in you.’ He smiled warmly, and so did Mrs Miller, her face crinkling up like tissue paper.

The three magistrates sat on what looked like wooden thrones, side by side behind a long table.

‘Three Wise Monkeys,’ whispered Mags. I shook my head at her, but she was spot on, as usual.

1. Sir Alan Darsdale, sitting on the left, deaf as a post and half-asleep in a dusty ray of sunshine, was Hear No Evil.

2. Mr Gibbons, in the middle, peering suspiciously at Mutti through his spectacles, was See No Evil. His eyeballs were inflated into ping-pong balls by the thick lenses.

3. Mrs Baron sat on the right. Her arms were folded and her lips were pressed together in a benign and professional smile. For the time-being at least, she was Speak No Evil.

Mrs Baron began proceedings. ‘Another straightforward case, I’m sure we all agree,’ she started.

Mutti turned her head towards Pa. He tried to smile at her, but she couldn’t smile back. Her hands were white, twisted together tightly in her lap.

‘Mrs Angela Smith—’

‘Mrs Angela Zimmermann Smith,’ Mr Gibbons corrected.