She met my eyes briefly, and I could tell she was very worried I was going to blow her cover.

She tried carefully to stay away from me. Fair enough. She’d gone to a lot of trouble with her makeup so the Stuart family resemblance wouldn’t be obvious.

Derfel and Ignacy were the only ones who sat down again besides me. We let the others get on with it.

“Scotty, you look like you have got a headache,” Ignacy said.

I was leaning on one elbow, shading my eyes with my hand. I lifted my face in an effort to appear more sociable.

“I was expecting a Teutonic battle-ax, not a flipping Rhine maiden,” I said.

“What do you not like about Rhine maidens?” he joked.

“God, look at Yorkie,” I complained. “He’s got his arm around her waist already. In the officers’ lounge! I’d better break it up.”

I heaved myself out of my chair again. I wasn’t sure if I was protecting my baby sister from my squadron or protecting my squadron from my baby sister.

But by the time I’d crossed the room she’d managed perfectly well to protect herself, skillfully extracting her slender waist from Bill Yorke’s grip all on her own. She cozied up to Phyllis, making it harder for the lads to get near her. Now she was chatting to Chip, and didn’t look at me until Phyllis tugged her arm and said, “This is Flight Lieutenant Beaufort-Stuart. He’s in charge of B-Flight and flies with Pimms. They’re the ones who picked up all the German messages.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard about you from your wireless operators.” She still didn’t look at me as she spoke. “You’re on the list to be interviewed.”

“Whenever you like,” I said, trying not to provoke her.

“I hope there’s not much more opening ceremony,” she added. “I’m here to talk to the prisoners, and I would quite like to get on with it.”

Once the shock began to wear off, I realized how hard it was going to be to ever get to talk to her alone—even harder than trying to talk to Ellen. “Happy to have a chat with you now in the debriefing room, Flight Officer Lind,” I said through my teeth.

She pealed with laughter. “Whatever would the rest of your squadron think if we two had a private tête à tête? Your interview is with your wing commander, not with me. And it’s Sergeant Lind.” She turned aside to show me her stripes. “I’m a translator—not in charge of anything!”