“Yes,” the man agreed, and there was a genuine note of weary sadness to his reply. He extended his hand. “Major James Reed. I’m here on behalf of Colonel Maurice Buckmaster, from London. Forgive my lack of introduction earlier. As well as any offense I might have inferred regarding your loyalties.”

“Don’t be coy. You fully intended offense.” Sophie looked up and shook his hand briefly. “It was part of your test.”

“Perhaps.” Reed was still studying her. “Tell me about Poland.”

“What about Poland?”

“Tell me how you got out.”

“Is this another part of your test?”

“Perhaps,” he said again.

Sophie suddenly felt exhausted, trying to find the words that wouldn’t betray the terror and grief that had accompanied her every step of the way. “North. Gdynia to Copenhagen. Then to Gothenburg. Then Edinburgh. Then London.”

Reed studied her. “You make it sound easy.”

“It wasn’t,” Sophie replied flatly. “It was months of waiting for opportunity. It was lying constantly, pretending to be a more believable persona whenever necessary. It was depending on people for generosity or stealing from them when you couldn’t. It was accepting that desperation always trumped morals. It was putting trust into strangers and their homes and barns and trucks and fishing boats, knowing at any moment you might be betrayed and that there was little you could do to stop it.”

The major was still watching her keenly. “Indeed” was all he said.

“There are a great many people who loathe the Nazis and everything they stand for. They just don’t say it out loud and instead let their actions speak for them. The trick is to find them.”

“And you did. You found your way back.”

Sophie looked up at the sky, buoyant white clouds dotting the blue expanse. “Not in time.”

The major didn’t offer platitudes this time. Instead he only regarded her with an intense expression. “Mmm.”

Sophie suddenly wanted this conversation to end. It was everything she could do not to simply bolt from the overgrown garden. “Did I pass your test, Major? Can I get back to my work? Unless you know something I don’t, there is still a war to be fought, and I intend to keep fighting.”

Reed might have smiled. “Tell me, Sophie, would you be willing to go back to France? Or even Poland?”

Sophie felt her jaw slacken. This conversation had taken an abrupt turn that she had seemingly missed. “What? Now?”

“No. There would be matters to be sorted first. Many phases of training that you would be required to undergo. Many more tests for you to pass.”

“You mean here? At Bletchley?”

Reed shook his head. “Not here.”

“Then where?”

“Surrey to start. Hampshire eventually, if you make it that far.”

“That tells me nothing,” Sophie said in frustration.

“That is rather the point.”

“Why me?”