Meanwhile poor Jane was struggling to open the door on her side of the van.

“How does one release oneself from a utility vehicle?” she demanded.

I couldn’t reach across her. I slid out past the steering wheel and ran around to haul open the passenger door from the outside. Jane lowered herself to the ground without waiting for me to help, letting gravity undo all the work it took to get her in there in the first place. But she needed my shoulder and an arm around her waist to help her stand, because her sticks were in the back of the van.

Now the third plane came down. The Spitfires circled above us, and the German plane taxied toward us from the far end of the runway, following Ignacy, growing closer. Airmen and ground crew were milling about everywhere, and Flight Lieutenant Jamie Beaufort-Stuart suddenly split away from the crowd and came over to where we were. He wore a life jacket and boots over what looked like a pajama top and uniform trousers, but he didn’t have on any other flight gear, and his fair hair was standing straight on end as if he’d grabbed it all by the roots and pulled.

“What’s going on?” Ellen called to him. “Was that you flying the lead plane?”

“D’you think I’d be out here in my jammies for fun?”

Ellen shrugged. “You just might.”

He ran one hand up over his face and through his hair, and I could see exactly how he’d got it to stick up in spikes. Then he waved at the German plane, which had trundled a lot closer. What I’d thought was smoke turned out to be a white towel or pillow slip fluttering from the cockpit window up front. Another long white streamer trailed behind the plane.

The Junkers was nearly twice as big as I’d thought it was in the air. It towered over the Blenheims. Its huge propellers clattered to a stop, and the white banners fell limp. The other planes switched off at the same time, and the stillness rang in my ears as if I’d gone deaf.

Then Ellen exclaimed in concern: “Jamie!”

She reached into the breast pocket of her uniform for her Woodbines and a matchbook and gave Jamie a cigarette. He took it, but when she offered him the matches he shook his head, put the cigarette in his mouth, and held up his narrow hands briefly, to show her.

He was trembling so much he couldn’t light a match. It was awful. I sucked in my breath between my teeth.

Ellen lit one for him. He leaned over her hand to dip the cigarette into the flame. She was taller than he was, but it didn’t make him look like a schoolboy. He looked like a bent old man.