Mother and daughter entered the building and found the man easily. He was standing in the middle of the school hall bawling orders at soldiers who were scurrying around like beetles. ‘Start with the classroom in the corner,’ he snapped. ‘That will be General Bruce’s office.’ Colette’s eyes were fixed on his gleaming left hand of solid metal.

Sergeant Grimm raised his chin. ‘I see you’re wondering about my hand? Don’t be afraid to ask. It’s a war wound. I went into no man’s land and saved my commander. He was shot in the leg and trapped in a shell-hole. The enemy tried to bring me down with two machine guns but I crawled on my belly with the bullets bouncing off my helmet. I saved his life.’

‘And the hand was hit?’ Colette Fletcher asked.

‘Yes. I’d just got him back to the safety of our trenches – I was using my body to shield him – and one last bullet shattered my hand. As it happened the commander was from a rich family and wanted to reward me. He said I should have a new hand made of solid silver. If I ever fell on hard times, after the war, I could snap off a finger and sell it.’

‘You’re a hero,’ Colette said. ‘Did they give you a medal?’

‘They offered me one but I told them no. I was only doing what any true British soldier would do. I was proud to serve my country. I don’t need a medal.’

He turned on his heel and screamed at a small soldier struggling with a desk. ‘Put your back into it, you miserable midget.’

Colette and Aimee slipped into the classroom and began work. ‘Go into the wall cupboard and pack the schoolbooks in a box,’ Colette said. ‘I’ll start polishing the desk for the general.’

Aimee nodded and entered the cool, dark cupboard in the wall. The shelves were stacked with worn and dusty books. She saw her favourite, Cicero, and began reading as she heard the door to the classroom swing open.

‘Sergeant Grimm,’ said a man’s voice.

‘Yes, General.’

‘I need a word in private.’

‘Yes, General.’ Sergeant Grimm coughed. ‘Excuse me, cleaner. Can you leave the room for a couple of minutes? Sorry to disturb your work.’

‘Excellent work, by the way, Madame,’ the general added.

‘Thank you, sir, I’ll start on the school hall,’ Colette Fletcher said in a humble voice. She was playing a good game of being a spy. And she knew her daughter was quietly working in the cupboard. Listening. Whatever Colette missed, Aimee would hear. She remembered Captain Ellis’s words in her home the day before: ‘There is a spy in General Bruce’s office. We have to find him.’

Aimee put the book down quietly and pressed herself into the shadows as near to the door as she could without being seen.