B-Flight came safe home next morning, but not completely sound, because all three of Pimms Section’s Blenheims were full of holes. Jamie’s one was like a sieve, and he got hit in the leg, just a tiny hole in his flight suit and a neat graze in the back of his calf. He wasn’t a mite fashed. Proud of it, pleased it was him and not anyone else who got hurt. Silver made him strip off his boots and flight suit right there in the shade of their plane to make sure he wasn’t bleeding to death. Jamie looked like a schoolboy sitting on the frosty grass in his rumpled blue uniform and socks, with Silver bent over his leg playing doctors and nurses.

“I’m hoping for a wound stripe,” Jamie told me, grinning. “For my sleeve. A decoration will impress the lads.”

“All you’re going to get is a dab of Dettol and some sticking plaster, mate,” Silver told him.

Jamie dragged on his boots and stood up.

“Go on and limp,” said Silver. “Let’s give Cromwell some drama. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

He took one of Jamie’s arms over his shoulder.

“If you’re a fighter pilot and you shoot down five planes, that makes you an ace,” Jamie told me, all full of himself. “We can’t battle Messerschmitts, so we’re counting U-boats. We’ve just bagged three.”

“You what!” I cried.

Those clear hazel eyes were blazing. He looked tired. Excited. Alive.

I wondered if the wound hurt more than he was letting on.

He said breathlessly, “Just two more, and then I reckon Pimms are all aces.”

“Well done, Pimms!” I exclaimed. “You heading to the Limehouse to celebrate?”

“We’ve got to go get debriefed just now,” Jamie said. “After.”

Silver looked at the sky. “Another winter storm tonight, and the last November moon tomorrow. With weather and luck, no more night flights until December. Plenty of time for the pub.”

“Aye, well, don’t imagine you’ll get a rest,” I told them. “’Specially not you, Flight Lieutenant Beaufort-Stuart.”

“Not for one single second do I imagine that.” Jamie gave a hop, trying to look at the back of his leg in step with Silver, who was four inches taller than him. “I say, Volunteer McEwen, could you introduce me to Nan’s old auntie? I need to learn a bit more German, and I want to chat to her about some lessons.”

“Scotty!” Silver scolded. “Cromwell will have your head if he hears.”

“I’ll hide in a tree, like Charles the Second. Silver, do stop fussing—I’ll let you in on things in a moment,” Jamie said. The grin was back. “Oh, and Ellen? Here’s that ten bob I owe your dad—”

“What ten bob?”

He rolled his eyes. “Does no one trust me? Pass it along.”