We were so close to Windyedge we ought to have seen the flashing beacon at the end of the runway. It wasn’t on, because I hadn’t called in yet. Presumably it was on earlier, when the rest of B-Flight came back. I couldn’t see the sea cliffs. If I left the lighthouse I would have to climb into fog to be sure I didn’t hit them.

But an enemy bomber wouldn’t have to worry about hitting the cliffs if he oriented himself by the lighthouse and stayed high as he came in over the airfield.

“There may be a Luftwaffe bandit heading this way,” I said to Silver. “We’d better do a bit of a patrol. There’s plenty of fuel left. If anyone asks, we’ll give credit to our ace wireless operator overhearing enemy transmissions.”

I called Adam Stedman to join me, and I called to the radio room on the ground and told them not to light up, and to man the antiaircraft guns. Finally, for Louisa’s benefit, I said, “Hold on back there. Could be a false alarm…”

Adam came rumbling out of the cloud and flew right round the base of the lighthouse, making sure we could see each other. Then we both flew in long ellipses, one of us on each end of the curve, out to sea and back, peering into nothing.

It felt as though time had stopped still. Maybe we were already dead and this was purgatory, circling in the frozen dark forever, adjusting the angle of bank on the long turns, looking for an enemy that might not exist.

“There!”

Silver and Louisa yelled together.

It was a Junkers 88 Luftwaffe bomber, a hulking black shape caught in the green loom of the lighthouse beam.

“Get out of that turret!” I yelled at Louisa.

Louisa:

But I didn’t—if I was going to die in an air battle I wanted to see it.

The Luftwaffe plane came out of the fog below us, a black shadow bathed in green light. I couldn’t hear the German engines’ telltale throb because of my headset and our own engines.

“I’m going in,” called Adam Stedman, and I saw sizzling red tracks through the air made by his firing guns.

The lighthouse beam turned. I couldn’t see Adam’s Blenheim or the German plane.

“Are you out?” Jamie called.

“Yes, on you go—”

We dived. I couldn’t tell where the target was, but Silver barked directions to Jamie as if he could see in the dark.

The Blenheims took turns heckling the Luftwaffe bomber. When Jamie swooped down, all I could see was the frosted Perspex of the turret, glowing red as the inside of a pomegranate. I felt the dive and heard the guns in my stomach.