‘I’ll go, then,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘I’ll go. And you can help me, Magda. Is the motor boat in working order yet?’

Mags shook her head. ‘Not really, Pa.’ I could tell she was disappointed that she wouldn’t be going too, but she didn’t want to upset Pa again.

‘Then get down to the harbour and give the old lifeboat the once-over for me.’ His voice shook and he swallowed hard. ‘I’ll set off with the tide first thing tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ Pa said. He sounded determined now. ‘Tomorrow. There’s something very important I need to do first.’

Chapter 24

24

With Mags down at the harbour working on the old lifeboat, and Pa up in the service room, I was left in charge of dinner. Since Mutti had gone, we had taken it in turns to cook, and I wanted to make the three of us a special meal that night as a surprise for Pa. The trouble was, the more I tried to make it special, the more it felt like a last supper. I kept blinking back tears that welled up out of nowhere.

I was peeling potatoes at the sink when I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye – someone was in our garden – and then, before I could catch my breath, there was a sharp rapping sound on the door. I jumped, and the potato knife slipped in my wet hand, slicing through the soft pink skin under my thumbnail. I cursed under my breath and dried my hands as best I could, wrapping a clean cloth around my bleeding thumb. By the time I opened the door, my heart was flipping about like an eel.

It was Pinstripe.

‘Oh. Hello,’ I said.

‘Hello.’

And then Pa’s voice was in the kitchen behind me. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to come up here to find me, Inspector,’ he said. His voice was oddly formal – the same tone he used when he spoke to the Admiralty on the telephone, but more stilted.

‘Well, I thought I’d save you the trouble of coming down to the station,’ the detective said, removing his hat. ‘And there was always the risk that you might . . . change your mind.’

Change his mind about what?

Pinstripe gave me one of those looks that grownups are very good at, and said, ‘Perhaps you could leave us to have a little chat in peace, Petra?’

I looked at Pa. What’s going on? Is it something to do with Mutti? But his face wore a strange, hard expression – all closed up. His hands gripped the top of the kitchen chair too tightly.

I went away, leaving them to their ‘little chat’. I didn’t go to my room, though. I had a plan. I unbolted the heavy door that linked the cottage to the lighthouse, feeling the chill of the concrete through my socks. I crept up the stairs.