The last of the carriages was passing them now. Marjie leaned out and checked the windows: no one was in the carriage. But she darted back as the guard’s van came into view. Having just caught sight of the guard, she’d seen that his attention was taken on the other side, watching the train as it slowed into the station.

‘Now! Run!’ When they reached the shorter section of wall, she shouted, ‘Give me a leg up, André.’

As he bent and cupped his hands for her, Marjie stepped on them, her eyes fixed on the top of the wall. Grabbing it, she threw her bag over and then scrambled over the top. Below her was a deeper drop than she’d anticipated, but she bent her knees and rolled as she landed. But then she couldn’t stop rolling, as the bank sloped steeply down. At the bottom was a road that she was unfamiliar with, and across from it a row of houses. As André came over the wall, she shouted, ‘Grab my bag! Then act as if you are chasing me, but not catching me!’

Taking off, Marjie prayed that if anyone saw them, they wouldn’t raise the alarm or try to help her. Most people hated the regime that ruled them and were afraid to interfere with anything the gendarmes did. They were more likely to keep away from the window than watch the drama they thought was unfolding outside their home.

Ahead, Marjie could see that the houses came to an end and, just past them, parkland led to a clump of trees. She made a run for it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Portpatrick

Mags, Ella, Betsy and Rosie

Mags held Betsy to her. That her lovely friend should be suffering as she was cut at Mags’s heart. There were no words.

She and Ella had travelled to Portpatrick by car. Their driver was unloading their cases, and Ella stood where she’d alighted on the other side of the car.

Stroking Betsy’s hair, Mags noticed that it had lost its vibrant chestnut sheen and was peppered with grey strands. ‘I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to come to you sooner than this, my dear Betsy, but you have been in my thoughts.’

‘I knaw, lass. And I’ve looked forward every evening to your phone calls. They, and our Rosie, are what has kept me going.’

‘Well, I’m here now, Betsy, and if there is anything I can do, I will. This is my friend Ella.’