If the colonel heard him he gave no sign but went on. ‘We need every spare room that you have to shelter our soldiers. Your houses will be inspected and you will take as many men as you can fit in.’ He paused and looked around with a small smile as if to say ‘sorry’. ‘We do not want to harm you but if anyone tries to hurt or obstruct us then they will be taken out and shot. Do I make myself clear?’

No one answered. He gave a tiny shrug and strode away towards the school. The Bray people shuffled off to suffer their visitors.

At the school door Master DuPont stood while the cat wrapped itself around his legs, weaving in and out but never taking its amber eyes off the German colonel coming up the path.

‘Good day, Colonel,’ the teacher said. ‘I hope you have come to tell me I can open the school again. There are still a few children left in Bray.’

‘I have come to take over your school for my offices,’ the German officer said.

Master DuPont gave a small smile then let it slide away as secretly as it had come. ‘Then allow me to help you.’

‘Sensible man,’ the colonel said.

‘The British left yesterday...’

‘They ran away,’ the colonel sneered.

Master DuPont bowed his head. ‘As you say, sir. But they left the school in a terrible mess. Perhaps I can let you have my cleaner to help you keep the place tidy. She is called Madame Fletcher.’

‘Fletcher? An English name?’

‘Indeed. Her husband was English. Now she has a small farm on the edge of town. Should I go and ask her to clean for you?’

‘Yes. Hurry.’

Master DuPont walked quickly away with that secret smile – the smile of a spy – still on his face. He hadn’t thought it would be so easy to get a White Lady into the German headquarters. The cat looked at the German officer’s dusty boots and hissed.

A German sergeant arrived at Colette Fletcher’s farm before the teacher. He explained in stumbling French that the house would be filled with soldiers who would sleep on mattresses in the farmhouse attic and cellar.

‘Not the barn?’ Colette Fletcher asked.

‘We need that for a hospital,’ the sergeant told her. He looked over his shoulder to where a thin man in spectacles walked up the lane with a boy hurrying beside him. ‘Here is Doctor Weger now.’

Aimee watched the boy. She was surprised. Were the Germans so short of men they had to call on boys that young to fight? His boots were worn and his uniform shabby. He looked so twig-thin he would snap in a strong wind.

For a moment she almost felt sorry for the boy. Then she shook her head and muttered, ‘He’s German, so I hate him.’