The boy shook his head. ‘He isn’t hungry. He doesn’t see the people that rebel on the streets of our cities back home. He doesn’t see the sick men that I see.’ The boy turned his wide eyes on Aimee. ‘I know we Germans are your enemy. But we are just ordinary people – like you. We fight because that’s what we have to do to live.’

Aimee narrowed her eyes. She saw a chance to spy for the White Lady. Her voice softened as if she felt sorry for the boy. ‘Show me these sick men, Marius. Maybe I could help.’

‘You would?’

Aimee nodded slowly. ‘As you say, these are ordinary men – like my father. If I help to care for German husbands and fathers maybe a young German will care for my father if he’s ever wounded or captured.’

They finished filling the bucket with the willow bark and turned back through the cool wood, walking through jagged stumps of trees where stray shells had snapped them.

‘Do we have a truce?’ Marius asked.

The girl thought for a moment. ‘We can make peace for a little while.’

The boy muttered something in German. ‘What was that?’ Aimee asked.

‘There is an English writer called William Shakespeare. We love to study him in German schools.’

‘I’ve heard of him.’

‘He said something about peace. He called it the silver hand of peace.’

Aimee shuddered and almost stumbled. The Silver Hand she knew would not bring peace to her if he ever returned.

April 1918: Bray

The first thing Aimee noticed as she entered her barn was the smell of sickness. Men lay in crowded rows, some talking to their neighbours, some moaning or breathing with grating breaths, some silent as the rain clouds outside.

Doctor Weger was moving between the mattresses on the floor giving medicine to some men and water to others. He gave a nod to Marius as the boy walked in, then looked at Aimee. ‘The farm girl. Can I help you?’ he asked in bad French.

Marius explained. ‘She has come to help us.’

The doctor nodded. ‘We have so few nurses that any help is welcome. Tell me, girl, have you ever had the flu?’

Aimee replied, ‘Yes. At Christmas. I was sick for a week.’

‘That is good. You will not catch it again, I think. You are well fed with your farm eggs and bread and milk. These soldiers are half starved. That makes them fall like corn when the Grim Reaper strikes.’

Marius hurried off with his bucket of willow bark to make more medicine. ‘I hope Marius will not catch it. I need him,’ the doctor said.

‘It’s just as well the British don’t know how weak these men are,’ Aimee said.

Doctor Weger sighed. ‘If they did they would walk into Bray and take the town back with hardly a shot.’