Gisele nodded. Her eyes travelled around the group as she picked up her bike.

Marjie spoke to her as she prepared to leave. ‘Goodbye, Gisele. Thank you for all you have done for us. You are very courageous, and we are going to miss you. Safe journey and, when this is all over, I hope we meet again.’

None of the rest of the group uttered a word as Gisele left.

Sibbie tried to keep her eyes on Paulo. The lorry transporting them rocked from side to side. They lay on the hard, slatted floor, bound and gagged. Breathing was difficult through her smashed nose. Her arms hurt, from the many burns inflicted by her interrogator’s cigarette, and her hands smarted where some of her nails had been yanked out. But she hadn’t given in. Even when the pain engulfed her in agony.

After discovering some of the weapons she had secreted around her body, and finding her cyanide pill, the Germans had deduced that Sibbie was a British agent and must have decided that she should be sent to the Gestapo. Her German torturer had taken great pleasure in telling her of their decision, and had described horrible tortures that she didn’t know if she could endure. ‘Your hands will be plunged into boiling oil – oh yes, let’s see if you keep quiet after that, you English pig.’ He’d gone on to say that they would cut her feet off, very slowly, with a hacksaw. Sibbie’s mind had screamed in terror at the thought, but still she hadn’t given in.

Her heart ached as she looked at her beloved Paulo. His eyes were full of pain. Looking out from blackened, swollen sockets, they seemed to be pleading with her. She knew that his leg was smashed, as she’d seen the bone jagging out from it. Fear clenched her, as she knew he could die if it wasn’t tended to. Oh, Paulo, if only we could speak to each other.

The horrendous sound of an explosion smashed through the air around her, freezing her thoughts as the truck veered off the road and down the verge. Her body rolled uncontrollably on top of Paulo’s. She tried to lift herself off him, knowing that she was adding to his pain, but couldn’t.

Gunfire resounded around her. Panic-stricken, Sibbie made an extreme effort to lift herself. In doing so, she caught sight of Paulo; his face was blue, he couldn’t breathe! Help me. Oh God, help me.

At that moment strong arms lifted her, and she looked into Arnie’s beloved face. The strip of plaster that held her mouth closed stung as he ripped it off. ‘I’m sorry, my darling girl, but that is the only way. I’m going to lift you out, and then see to Paulo.’

‘Hurry, he isn’t breathing, Oh, Uncle Arnie, save him – save him.’