More footsteps joined the group, and then an older voice – one used to giving orders – said something about there being too many trees in the way. Someone else replied, suggesting they move on, and Gunnar and Inger heard movement towards them before the man who seemed to be in charge of the patrol said they should carry on further up the hillside.

After that it was quiet, although Gunnar and Inger restricted their defeating the Nazis to watching out for the RAF plane and further German patrols. Around ten o’clock they could make out dozens of German troops moving in the fields below them, and then soon after eleven, there was the low roar of an aircraft approaching from the west. It was a cloudy night, with little light from the moon, so it was hard to make much out, but the shape of the aircraft soon became apparent. It descended to just a few hundred feet, swooping low over the fields, and Gunnar whispered something to Inger about how he hoped the engines wouldn’t stall.

The tip of the starboard wing almost brushed the trees on the side of the hill, and then the plane climbed again rapidly, disappearing as suddenly as it had arrived.

The hill seemed to come to life. The patrol that had moved to the top descended quickly and noisily, and at least one other patrol was shouting out to them. From what Gunnar and Inger could gather, they were trying to ascertain whether anyone had seen a parachute. An officer called that they’d seen nothing up there; they’d all need to move down to the fields.

Gunnar and Inger remained in the woods for the rest of the night, using the time to help defeat the Nazis. At first light they returned to the village, through the hidden paths and along the hedgerows they knew like the back of their hands. They noticed German patrols moving through the fields and spotted more than one roadblock. Gunnar arrived home to find his father waiting anxiously for him. He told him what he’d seen, and then his father disappeared to a nearby barn to transmit a radio message to London.

It did not take Hendrie long to regret his impulsiveness. He had, he decided, acted quite improperly: one simply did not wander uninvited into the office of someone so senior in the Service. That it was out of character would hardly count as mitigation, and he assumed Gilbey’s politeness merely masked his displeasure. Hendrie had little doubt that Gilbey’s disapproval would work its way down to Bentley, his own boss. He was certain Bentley didn’t like him. There’d been talk of a transfer to India, where they were beefing up the Service operation, and he didn’t think he’d cope with the heat.