Her imagination was working overtime, thinking of all the things that could be making that noise. Had some of the British soldiers miraculously survived? Were the Germans out there hauling the bodies away? Were there more men being killed? She shuddered at the last thought, willing it to go away.

“Is it morbid that I want to look outside so badly?” Addy asked.

Elise sighed and stood, taking both their bowls and walking them to the sink. “No, it’s not morbid at all. I’m going to go mad sitting in here with the curtains drawn, wondering what on earth is going on out there as we listen to every noise. But it’s dark and we don’t want anyone out there to see us in here, so for now, we pretend nothing has happened. And we ignore that god-awful noise.”

Easier said than done. Addy tried to take a leaf out of her sister’s book and busied herself with wiping down the table and going to dry the dishes, but it was a job that only took ten minutes between the pair of them. Soon they were both exchanging glances without saying anything, and both trying to ignore what could be going on. She only wished she had some of her sister’s strength.

When the rain started to fall more steadily, pounding out a constant beat on their old roof, Addy finally felt her nerves start to settle, and she snuggled up on her favorite chair, the one that had been her father’s until he died, patting her knee for Oscar to jump up.

Elise sat down beside her, and although they’d usually read a book or knit, or something other than just sit, tonight that was all they did. Hand in hand, side by side, they sat, listening to the rain, not a word said between them.

Knock, knock, knock.

Addy almost fell off her chair as Elise leapt to her feet. Her sister immediately took their father’s rifle from the wall where he’d always hung it, holding it out in front of her and checking it was loaded. An involuntary shiver peeled down Addy’s spine as Elise pushed the bolt forward before lifting the rifle high so she was staring down the barrel, the butt pressed into her shoulder.

The knocking echoed out louder this time, more like a loud thump, once, then twice.

“Keep the dog tight under your arm and slowly open the door,” Elise said.

Addy rose, obeying her sister’s orders. Her legs were like a newborn colt’s, knees knocking and wobbly as she inched her way across the room.

“Who could it be?” she whispered.

Elise didn’t reply straight away, moving behind her, the rifle positioned between them, like Addy’s own personal protection.

“I don’t know, but I’m not letting anyone storm into our house without a fight.”