The voices were closer now. Two men in military uniform were half-running towards us from the direction of the harbour. The light from their torches whirled around on the sand like Catherine wheels.

‘He’ll be all right, I think,’ said the first man after he had examined him. ‘Taken a bash to the head, but he seems to have a strong enough pulse. Good job you got him out of the water so quickly – he’d have drowned otherwise.’

Spooky Joe grunted. He helped manoeuvre the Luftwaffe pilot out of the boat, but I noticed that he wasn’t gentle with him. The pilot’s left leg fell heavily on to the sand and twisted behind him. One of the men in uniform poured a few drops of something on to the young man’s lips. It smelled like brandy.

‘He’ll be useful, won’t he?’ Spooky Joe said in a low, emotionless voice. ‘You might be able to get some information out of him.’

The first officer shrugged. ‘We can try.’

Then the pilot stirred. His eyelids flickered and he muttered something in German.

‘We need a translator down here,’ the first officer said to the second as he rolled the boy on to his side and handcuffed his wrists together. ‘As quickly as you can.’

The second man was already on his feet when I said, ‘I can speak German.’

Spooky Joe and the two military men looked straight at me. It was as if I had suddenly become visible. It was hard to read the expressions on their faces, though. I was useful, but could I be trusted?

‘Can you? What did he say, then?’

‘He said something about a sign – a signal.’

The pilot’s eyelids flickered as he rolled on to his back, and he muttered the same words again.

‘A signal?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘A signal.’

I looked up towards the dark cliffs that lay beyond the lighthouse.

Perhaps I hadn’t imagined it. Perhaps I had seen a light flashing up there after all.

Chapter 31

31

Iwas back home and in bed by the time Mags finally crept back into the cottage. It must have been very late.

‘Did you see the bomber come down?’ I whispered. I don’t know why I whispered – there was no one else in the cottage for us to disturb.

I had been lying there, sleepless in the dark, thoughts of the German pilot, Spooky Joe and the mysterious signal from the clifftops all swimming around in my head. Pa had been the spy that Pinstripe had been searching for – I knew that – but there must be someone else too: someone else had cut the telephone lines and burnt down the village hall, and someone was now flashing a light during the blackout signalling to the enemy . . .

‘Yes,’ Mags said. ‘We saw it come down.’

‘We? Where were you, Mags? Who were you with?’

But she didn’t say anything.

‘Mags?’