Not so much in that other, different, terrible things might have happened without my interference, but in that we just wouldn’t ever know the millions upon millions of combinations that fate’s rotor dials could have lined up.

Jamie’s sister gave me that crooked smile again. I liked her much more without the disguise.

“Anyway, this is how it’s turned out,” she said. “And I shall make sure the full story doesn’t go beyond my commanding officer. The official version is that the machine was hidden behind the gas fire in Mrs. Campbell’s best double room until I found it there just before B-Flight went to Stavanger.” She paused, and made a point of looking at us one by one until we each met her eyes. She did Jamie last, as if she thought he needed an extra dose of telling-off. “You’re all accountable for treason against the British Crown under the Official Secrets Act if you reveal a word about any of it for the next fifty years.”

“I’m not a child,” muttered Jamie. “Nor are Ellen and Louisa. You needn’t keep up your Intelligence officer act now that you’ve taken off your false eyelashes.”

“Well, I have to warn you about the Official Secrets Act, I’ve been told to, and I’m doing it now as I’ve got all three of you in one place and there’s no one else listening,” she said crossly. “And there’s a difference between being held accountable for treason and actually being guilty of it. Accountable means you have to be able to justify your actions. I don’t know how you’d justify revealing any of what you’ve been doing for the past three months, but you could probably justify doing it.”

“I bloody well could justify doing it,” said Jamie. “I’d do it again.”

“Someone will do it again,” I said. “Now that we’ve shared it.”

Jamie:

Louisa was going to be wasted staying at Nan’s, with her head full of Morse code and her backbone of steel and her hunger for action.

I shifted my legs. It was practically impossible to sit up straighter without putting pressure on my hands. I tried not to flail; they’d all go soft on me if they thought I was in pain.

“What are you going to do next to help win the war, Louisa?” I said. “You should join the WAAF.”

Louisa shook her head and gave a terrifically prim response, sounding like Phyllis.

“I’m fifteen. They’d never let me in.”

I couldn’t believe she’d let a little thing like that stop her.