The young man, his eyes glazed with tiredness, shrugged. ‘Sorry – can’t say. I mean – I don’t know. I don’t know yet who’s back – and who’s not,’ he added significantly.

There was another aircraft approaching the runway, its engines coughing and spluttering. Any moment it would be out of fuel. Lower and lower it dropped until its huge tyres hit the runway with a squeal and it was racing along the concrete. In the darkness Kate could not see its name and she shivered in the cold morning, waiting, still waiting . . .

The crew were piling out of the crewbus and walking towards her. She moved forward a step.

‘Danny?’ she whispered, but the men were strangers. It was not Danny’s crew.

She swallowed the fear rising in her throat and looked anxiously towards the east, willing there to be another plane in view. But the dawning sky was empty and silent.

She went into the building where de-briefing was taking place; the crews, drinking tea, were moving from one WAAF interrogator to another as they gave their various reports. Kate felt the fear in the pit of her stomach, as she glanced around the room. There was no sign of Danny, nor of any other member of his crew.

She repeated her question. ‘Are you from East Markham? Do you know what’s happened to D-Doggo?’

‘No, sorry. Three aircraft went down over the target. Maybe . . .’

She turned away; she didn’t want to hear.

Across the room, she saw Philip, moving among the crews, glance at her. Kate bit her lip. She shouldn’t be here, really. But he did not look angry, only worried.

She left the building and ran, her heart thumping, back towards the control tower. Breathless, she ran up the stairs and burst into the Control Room. She paused in the doorway, her hand still holding the door-handle, her frightened eyes going at once to the blackboard.

There were two names still on the board: P-Pluto and D-Doggo. Dragging her terrified gaze from the board, she met Dave’s sympathetic eyes. Instead of being annoyed with her for charging into the Control Room, he rose, came towards her and led her gently to a chair in the corner. ‘Sit there, love, I’ll get you a cuppa.’

The room, which only half an hour ago had seemed chaotic, a nerve centre of activity, was now silent. Only crackles and whistles emitted from the radio, no pilot’s voice requesting permission to land, no voice giving the call-sign ‘D-Doggo here’.

She had to face the truth; Danny was missing.

Mavis and Isobel were sitting in front of their radio control panels and Kate sensed they could not bring themselves to say anything, or even look at her.