Prince opened the file, but Hendrie put his hand on top of it. ‘Later. You’ll need to read this, absorb all the information and commit it to memory. Remember, your life depends on it. It’s not just a matter of memorising the information; you must absolutely believe it and live it. By the time you leave here you need to be Jesper Holm. Greta’s done a splendid job. It’s a first-class identity and absolutely rock solid.’

When they finished, Prince went for a walk in the paddock alongside the farmhouse. He was leaning against a fence when Greta joined him. She stood apart from him, gazing into the distance.

‘Are you ready for your mission, Jesper? You have to get used to being called that.’

‘Not yet, but I imagine I will be once I’ve read up on him.’

‘Do you go this week?’

He shrugged. ‘I really don’t know, Greta, I—’

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking you these questions.’ She glanced at him and then away again. They didn’t speak as they walked back to the house.

The following morning, Tom Gilbey arrived along with a young Royal Navy officer he introduced as Jack Shaw.

‘I gather things have gone rather well?’

‘I hope so, sir.’

‘Nervous?’

‘Naturally. I suspect I’d be nervous if I wasn’t nervous, if you gather my meaning.’

‘Very good. Now then, you’re going to be travelling to Denmark by sea, and young Shaw here will be your escort.’

They ate that night in the dining room, the first time they’d used that room since arriving in Derbyshire. It felt very formal, like a farewell dinner, with an atmosphere to match. There were four of them round the table: Prince, Gilbey, Hendrie and Shaw. When they’d finished their meal, Gilbey asked Shaw and Hendrie to leave.

‘I return to London tonight, Prince. You’ll leave here in the morning. Shaw’s terribly good: we’ve borrowed him from Royal Navy intelligence and they rate him very highly. I know he looks like a schoolboy, but then they all do these days, don’t they? You’ve had all your briefings, eh?’

Prince nodded, wondering whether he dared help himself to another glass of claret.

‘Any… problems?’

‘Only that I’m leaving my son, sir. Of course, I realise everyone has to make sacrifices because of the war, but he is all I have, and perhaps more to the point, I’m all he has. But Mr Hendrie says it will only be a couple of months, and once I’m back…’ He stopped speaking as he tried to compose himself, his head dropping down.

Gilbey allowed a few moments of silence before he spoke. ‘Of course, one understands, but as you say, we’re all making sacrifices. Do have another glass of wine; there’s very little not helped by that.’