‘I think it’s meant to be funny...’

She read it and tried to explain to Marius what it said.

‘The Little Soldiers of the Night

Though some hundreds you may kill,

You’ll find there’s hundreds still,

For they hide beneath each other

And are smart at taking cover;

Then you have an awful bite,

They’ve a shocking appetite.

There are families in dozens,

Uncles, mothers, sisters, cousins,

And they have their married quarters

Where they rear their sons and daughters;

And they take a lot of catching,

Cause an awful lot of scratching.’

‘I’ll take the top bunk,’ Aimee said. ‘I’m not sure you have the strength to climb up.’

Marius smiled a pale smile and agreed. He placed the oiled rain cape from the pack on top of the damp mattress. The stale air was warm enough so he needed none of the ragged blankets. The dugout smelled of tobacco and rats. He fell asleep moments later.

Aimee lay awake longer, listening to the squeakings and scurryings of creatures that were invisible in the shadows. Marius snored softly. Outside an owl hooted, so she knew that night had fallen. ‘Best of luck catching the mice tonight,’ she whispered to the owl.

Minutes later she was asleep too.

At the edge of the woods a watcher stood and looked down the hill to the trench where Aimee and Marius had settled for the night. His long black cloak reached below his knees. He took an oilskin from his pack and spread it over some branches to make a simple tent. He lowered himself carefully to the ground. He wrapped his cloak around him and lay there, listening to the rain beating against the roof of his tent.

26 August 1918: The Fletcher farm

Hours before Aimee fell asleep Sergeant Grimm had marched up the path to the Fletcher farm to seek her out. He glanced over his shoulder as if he expected to be followed. He knocked on the farmhouse door and entered before Mrs Fletcher said, ‘Come in.’ She was sitting at the table, peeling potatoes. The schoolmaster, Master DuPont, sat opposite her. He watched Silver Hand with wary eyes and a forced smile.

‘Where’s the girl? Little Aimee, isn’t it?’ the sergeant asked.

‘Gone to Amiens,’ the teacher said quietly. ‘She should have gone back in March when the Germans arrived. Now our town is ruined it’s not safe. The Germans could be back at any minute... or they could send bomber planes to hit the railhead.’

Grimm nodded. ‘Yes, they’ll be back,’ he said. ‘Sorry to have missed her.’

‘Why did you want to see her?’

‘Ah... to see if she wanted another ride in the balloon... she seemed to enjoy it last time.’

Master DuPont coughed gently. ‘Ahem. An enemy plane nearly blew her out of the sky,’ the teacher reminded him.