He hung about long enough to grill us all, and then he poked around in the Jerry pilot’s room, like a terrier sniffing out rats. After his wee nosy he came downstairs and went straight to the gramophone case and tested its working parts. Finally he pawed through Jane’s records, emptying all the album sleeves and checking with Louisa about which ones the Jerry had played. He didn’t say what he was looking for, and as far as I could tell, he didn’t find anything.

Last thing before he went, he turned his sticking-pin gaze on Louisa, standing quiet as a mouse at Jane’s shoulder by the big old mantelpiece.

“That is quite the collection of wishing coins,” he said. “Aren’t airmen a superstitious lot! Well, perhaps the hoodoo will help you to feel at home, Louisa. Thank you, my dear Mrs. Campbell, for being so patient while I shifted the furniture about upstairs. And you, Mrs. Warner, for allowing me to disturb your recordings. You have a very youthful taste in music! I apologize if I haven’t put everything back in its proper place—mustn’t leave any stone unturned. I shall dash now before the weather closes in. I am damnably disappointed. Volunteer McEwen, is your utility vehicle at my service?”

As if I had a choice. At least he wouldn’t pull a gun.

It wasn’t until later, back at the Limehouse, that I realized how unpopular he’d made himself.

“All right, Louisa?” I asked her. She was rinsing crockery behind the bar, her pretty heart-shaped face pinched and frowning. I added, “Where is everybody?”

“Mrs. Campbell is putting things right in Room Four, and Jane is supposed to be having a rest. She spent ages fussing over her records, and she made me go with her to the village shop to try to find sticky tape for a torn album sleeve. Now her bad hip is hurting. She won’t say, but I’m learning to guess.”

“Does it make you cross?”

Her frowning brows went smooth. “I’m not cross.”

I said gently, “But I can see that you are.”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

We’d only met the day before, but we’d shared a great trial that morning, and it made us closer than we would be otherwise. I knew she wasn’t happy. “Was it something Nan said? Don’t let her fash you,” I told her. “She’s not too old to change her ways, but she’s slow to learn.”

I lived in fear Nan would twig what I was and we’d have a bitter fight over whether I should leave her house. I didn’t think she’d prefer me to raise a tent in her garden, but I wasn’t ready to find out.