Were they talking about Mutti? Did Mags want to go and see her?

Yesterday’s newspaper headline was branded in white-hot letters across my every thought. Pinstripe had suggested that Mutti was a spy, but that wasn’t the only thing that now made me think she was guilty . . . There was something else too, something I had told no one else about.

Late last night, I had crept up into the service room to take another look at the newspaper article and, hidden away underneath it was the second page of Mutti’s letter. Pa had hidden it from us deliberately, and as soon as I read it, I understood why. From her final words to us, it was clear that Mutti would be hanged as a traitor, and there was nothing any of us could do about it.

The missing page of the letter crackled softly beneath my pillow. My arms were wrapped tightly around myself beneath the blanket, but it didn’t stop my hands and feet from trembling.

The voices in the kitchen rose up again: ‘You can’t possibly go over there by yourself, Magda – you’ll be killed!’

‘But thousands of our men will be killed unless we go and help them!’

They weren’t talking about Mutti. What were they talking about? Something to do with the war . . . I got out of bed and went straight into the kitchen. It took a moment for Pa to notice me, standing there, pale and barefooted in my pyjamas.

‘Nothing to worry about, Pet,’ Pa said, though his face told me something very different. ‘Your sister and I are having a discussion—’

‘About this,’ Mags interrupted, turning up the volume on the wireless. ‘Listen.’

‘ . . . the Admiralty are putting out a call for all men with boating skills,’ the announcer said. ‘Especially those with a good knowledge of coastal navigation, who are capable of taking charge of a yacht or motor boat. Volunteers will be required to cross the Channel to Dunkirk in France to help evacuate British soldiers. All seaworthy vessels . . .’

‘They’re trapped,’ Mags said, switching the wireless off. ‘Thousands of our men are waiting there on the beaches right now – thousands of them! – cornered by Hitler’s army.’

‘Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea,’ I said, still haunted by my dream of the Wyrm.

‘Exactly,’ Mags barked. ‘And I can help.’

‘Other people are going to help them, Mags, but not you. You’re too young. And . . .’

‘And what? And I’m a girl? Pa! You know I can man a boat better than most men in this village, better than most men in the country, I bet!’ Her hair was wild, her eyes shone. There was nothing to be done with Mags when she had the wind in her sails like this.

Pa opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He held out his hands instead, as if begging her to stop.