A soft cooing joined the choir of wild birds in the forest. She went to a loft and found many of the pigeons, the fortunate ones that had not yet been drafted for a mission, flocked on the earthen floor. They jutted their heads and circled the feeding tray. She hoped to see Duchess perched on the grain barrel, but there was only the rusted feeding can and wooden spoon. She picked up a pigeon and stroked its wings. It blinked and cooed. Gently returning the pigeon to the floor, she scooped grains into the feeding tray. The pigeons flooded the floor and pecked.

The other lofts were the same. No Duchess. And the sight of all the empty cubbies made her eyes water. Be an egg, she thought. She tended to the hatchlings, squabs, and nursing parents, and went inside to check on Bertie.

The squeak of the door caused Bertie to sit up and rub sand from his eyes.

She unbuttoned her coat, hoping her grandfather wouldn’t realize she had spent most of the night on the porch.

“You’re up early,” he said, yawning.

She hung her coat on a rack and went to his chair. “How’re the knees?”

He removed the towels and pressed his kneecaps. “Splendid.”

“They’re still swollen,” Susan said, noticing that one knee was bigger than the other. “Stay off your feet today.”

“I’ll be fine.” He slowly stood, leaning most of his weight on the chair. “Did you sleep?”

Susan shook her head.

“I’ll make us some tea.” He hobbled to the kitchen.

“I’ll do it.”

“I need to get these old bones moving.” His feet shuffled over the floor. Before making it to the stove, he stopped at the sound of an approaching engine.

Susan jerked when she heard the unmistakable sound of Bertie’s truck—slipping gears and the metallic ping of pistons. She threw open the door and ran outside. A flash of hope washed over her as she saw their truck, followed by a military vehicle, coming up the lane. The truck slowed to a stop in front of the cottage. She jumped down from the porch and ran to the driver’s door. Her heart sank when a soldier stepped out.

“Where’s Ollie?” she asked, not recognizing the soldier.

The soldier slipped his cap from his head and squeezed it in his hands like he was ringing out a washrag. “I don’t know, miss.”

Bertie emerged from the cottage and said, “He was with the soldiers delivering the pigeons.”

The soldier looked at the old man and shrugged.

A soldier driving the accompanying military vehicle joined his comrade. He glanced at Susan, then looked at Bertie and said, “We don’t know where he is. We were ordered to return the lorry.” He pointed to the tent. “We’ve been assigned here for the duration of the mission.”