‘Not a problem,’ the sergeant said. ‘I can do that. Done it a dozen times.’

And, before Aimee could find the words to escape, Captain Ellis had jumped out and Silver Hand was in the basket beside her. This time his grin was as wide as the Somme. ‘Hello, my little friend. I’m going to enjoy this trip.’ He turned to the men on the ground. ‘Cast off,’ he ordered and Aimee felt the balloon leap upwards with a jerk that sent her stomach into her mouth.

The spring sunshine was hidden by the great grey monster over their heads and the breeze felt cold. Or maybe it was Aimee’s fear. Soon they were higher than the tops of the spindly trees and sending startled birds squawking away. The people below were shrinking and she saw her mother wave happily. Colette Fletcher didn’t know. Aimee had been too afraid of the threat from the man with the silver hand to say anything. And now it was too late.

The black road was a ribbon spattered with the khaki and brown of lorries and marching men. The Somme looked peaceful and shiny green while the railway yards hid under a haze of smoke.

To the east Aimee could see the flashes of the enemy guns pouring shells down on the ground, closer and closer to Bray. Her farm looked small enough to be a doll’s house and the animals were dots in the smooth green of the fields.

Tears filled her eyes and blurred the scene. It was beautiful. It was the last thing she’d ever see, she knew.

Aimee was expecting the grip of Sergeant Grimm’s hand on her smock but it still made her sick when she felt it.

‘So sad,’ Silver Hand said. ‘A girl goes in an air balloon for the first time. She panics and runs around and falls out.’

The strong right hand lifted her so she was half out of the basket. She couldn’t find the breath to cry.

‘Goodbye, Aimee,’ said Silver Hand.

26 March 1918: East of Bray

Doctor Weger and Marius looked down from the ridge on to the town of Bray. ‘The Romans used to fight on elephants,’ Marius said.

The doctor gave a sudden laugh. ‘What?’

‘I didn’t know the British still used them,’ the boy said and pointed to a field on the edge of the town. ‘Well, it looks like an elephant to me.’

The doctor moved his head and went stiff. ‘It’s a balloon. A hundred times more deadly than an elephant,’ he croaked.

‘A balloon can’t hurt you,’ Marius argued.