Geoffrey’s brown eyes had clouded with time, become rheumy and lavender. He pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped them. ‘Will you write again?’ he said.

Joe pulled out the pad of writing paper, Dear Mrs Hummel…

Finally there was a reply. The postman brought it up on Friday morning and handed it to Joe. He’d just finished the milking, was about to clean himself up in the caravan. He took the letter, turned it over. The postmark was English, from Richmond. Well, Joe thought, she gets around. He opened the letter.

I must apologise, but I was called away on business. She had no idea of the turmoil she’d caused, otherwise she wouldn’t be so casual. I would still like to talk to you, if possible, and will be returning to Jersey in the near future, although at this stage am unable to give you precise dates. In the meantime, I have another photo relating to this time and wondered whether you may be able to throw some light on this also?

Joe felt it with his fingertips, clipped to the back of the letter.

I do appreciate that the subject of the German occupation is still very sensitive in Jersey and the Channel Islands, so forgive me if I tread on toes. The photograph is that of a German nurse. I can find no trace of her in the records in Germany, though they are incomplete for the Channel Islands. I need to know, however, if she was in Jersey during those years and wondered whether you may have seen her round and about? I quite understand if you cannot remember that far back, or if I am stirring up unwelcome memories of that time, which, I understand, were painful for so many islanders. I am already asking perhaps too much of you. Thank you for your time.

Joe pulled the picture free and Trude’s plain, round face stared back at him across the years.

Jersey: May – June 1943

Joe watched the boys file out, their faces hot and sweaty.

‘Now, mind you do those sit-ups,’ he called after one. ‘Work on them. Fitness is the key.’ Nodding at another. ‘Mind the footwork.’

Pierre was waiting behind the ring, stepped forward as the last of the boys went out.

‘Are you all right, Father?’ he said.

‘And why wouldn’t I be all right?’ Joe looked around the room, making sure the boys had left nothing. Some of them would leave their heads behind if they weren’t screwed on.

‘Only you’re working those boys too hard.’