Louisa shook her head. “That’s not it. There were more bombs in London. It’s that I worry about Jane. She leaves the gas tap on without lighting the fire. She tries to go out on her own and she says it’s because she doesn’t want to wake me, but the cobbles are always black with ice first thing in the morning and you know how steep the lane is past the limekilns. If she falls or gets hurt or… or worse… well, even if it isn’t my fault, the more I like her, the more I couldn’t ever forgive myself if something happened and I wasn’t there to help.”

She looked away. She gave a quick sniff, then turned about again.

“She’s teaching me Morse code!” Louisa said shakily, as if she wanted to talk of something else. “She could teach me to sing opera. I bet she’d teach me German if I really wanted to learn something useful.”

I stared at her. “Useful! German!”

“I want to do something to help with the war. I could translate for prisoners, perhaps, when I’m older. I don’t know. Be a spy, like Mata Hari.” Louisa frowned again. “Your poor hands! Do you need help?”

It was most unlikely anyone was listening.

But Louisa rabbiting on about bloody Mata Hari and learning to speak in Morse code like a Jerry made me not want to take any chances.

“I don’t need help. I’m going to have a bath.” I stood up, shook my wet hands, and turned on the bath taps. The water roared, covering the sound of our voices beyond the bathroom door.

“I had a word with our Jamie, over at Aberdeen,” I told her. “He worked out that message this morning, and ordered the planes away from Windyedge. In the dark—most of the lads took off in their vests and braces! Must have been perishing up there without flight suits.”

“But what did he tell the commander?” Louisa asked, wide-eyed. “Where did he say he got the tip?”

“He put it back to the first message—remember, that one about ‘Deeside south green light’? Jamie worked out it means us. We’re south of Deeside, just off the green light at the Kingsleap Rocks. They tried to hit us in daylight last week and got the railway by accident, but when the light was lit for the fishing boats this morning, they tried again. They’d have surely got most of our planes on the ground if it hadn’t been for Jamie. Even Old Cromwell saw that. And what do you think he said?”

I pulled Cromwellian eyebrows and put on my best posh English accent. “‘Good thinking, Flight Lieutenant Beaufort-Stuart, but insubordination nonetheless. You didn’t ask permission. Confined to barracks for a week except for operational flying.’”

“Poor Jamie!” Louisa exclaimed.

“Bloody Cromwell,” I muttered.