He got Chip’s arm over his shoulder. Bracing himself against the table, Jamie managed to get them both to their feet. They were about the same height, but Chip was heavyset. Ellen slipped herself beneath Chip’s other arm and he laughed.

“Oh, I like this—”

“Stow it, you clot,” barked Jamie.

Ellen said grimly, “Louisa, you’ll have to help.”

I took a deep breath.

But I did it. I slid in next to her, my arm around her waist, and hung on to Chip’s wrist where it dangled over my shoulder.

“Get the door, Mrs. C.,” Jamie grunted. “What were you thinking, to let him get shot up like this!”

“You left him here! You should have carried him out before, when the lads could have helped!” Nan Campbell gasped. “He’s never flying in this state!”

“If I don’t get him in the air tonight he’ll be court-martialed! And probably so will I, come to think of it.”

“Don’t you fret, Tex is much less likely to cause trouble this way,” Ellen told Nan. “He can sleep in the air.”

I saw Jamie glance at the coins in the ceiling. Nan followed his gaze, her face pale.

“In my pocket—” Chip tilted his head. “Go on, Scotty, give her some of the funny money. Sixpence, a tanner, is that what you call it? A tanner for my next pint—”

With a heavy sigh, balanced beneath Chip’s arm and not daring to tempt fate, Jamie managed to reach into Chip’s trouser pocket and somehow came up with a sixpence. He gave it to Mrs. Campbell.

“You keep that safe for him.”

Ellen:

Nan held the doors, and the rest of us heaved Chip through and slung him in the back of the Tilly. He was away with the fairies as he hit the floor.

“You’d better come,” I told Louisa.

“Ride up front with Ellen,” Jamie added. “I’ll keep an eye on Texas Sunshine.”

“What about Jane!” Louisa objected.

“I’ll look in on her,” said Nancy quickly. “Just this once. Of course I will.”

Under the bright full moon I didn’t need headlamps—not that they’re worth much in wartime, narrowed to slits with black paint. Louisa offered her passport at the barrier, but Nobby saw her too often to care; he rolled his eyes and waved us through.

Jamie coaxed and scolded his rat-arsed gunner all the way, but Louisa cracked away with me just as she’d done when Felix Baer took us for hostages.

“What are tinkers?” Louisa asked. “Is it like being a Gypsy?”

“Aye, a mite like that. My folk are Travellers,” I said shortly. “Tinker is what the gadgies call us. That would be like folk calling you a darkie—you wouldn’t call yourself that, would you? Filthy tinker.”

“You must have stories!” Louisa said.