Amy walked immediately behind the nephew as they made their way to a small terrace at the back of the house. Shaded by two orange trees, it had the most spectacular view of the valley up which they had driven. The air was still and vibrated with the sound of crickets, which somehow conspired to make it feel even hotter.

“Quite a view,” said Amy.

“Yes,” said the nephew. “My aunt, she is over here.”

He pointed to a dark corner, tucked well into the shade. Sitting on a large canvas chair, next to a small table, was the object of Amy’s journey. Dressed in black, her lined face deep brown and leathery, she had the countenance of one who had suffered much. The nephew walked over to her and shouted in Greek in her ear:

“The woman from England is here!”

She moaned a few words back, the nephew holding his ear right next to her mouth.

“She says, ‘Come over!’”

Amy walked tentatively across.

“Hello, Mrs. Pentaris,” said Amy. “It is very kind of you to see me.”

The nephew translated Amy’s words. Mrs. Pentaris then asked him a question, the answer to which he bellowed back.

“What was that?” Amy asked.

“I’m afraid she had forgotten you were coming, Miss Lockhart. She wanted to know who you were. I told her.”

Mrs. Pentaris started mumbling again. As her nephew listened, his face turned grave. When she had finished, he stood up.

“I’m sorry, Miss Lockhart.”

“What?”

“My aunt—she will not speak to you.”

“But…why?”

He looked uneasy.

“Please tell me,” said Amy.

“She…she says that she will not talk to the daughter of the man who murdered her son. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Amy opened her mouth, but decided to stay silent. She stared at the old woman, whose head was shaking, her blind eyes growing moist. Amy turned and walked to the terrace wall. It really was a lovely view. If only it could talk.

Chapter Six

MAY–JUNE 1944

The first of May was a public holiday in the Reich, as it was in most European countries. However, the Nazis had appropriated it as “National Labor Day,” and because the unit had been making good progress, Strasser had allowed it to observe the holiday, and had issued them with passes to join in the festivities in town. As a result, the men, with the exception of Butcher, took the opportunity to get plastered. Hull and Andreae, the ringleaders of any activity that involved alcohol, had planned a crawl of all the bars in Hildesheim, with a prize of thirty Reichsmarks to whoever could last the longest. Although Lockhart thought the idea a great one—he had done the same, and had indeed won such a competition, at Oxford—he had resolved not to tell Strasser about it, since he was worried that fights might break out. He decided that he would join in, not least because it presented a further opportunity to bond with the men, but also because it would enable him to keep an eye on them. He had no wish for the work of the past few weeks to be undone by the unit going on a drunken rampage through the town center.