‘Authorised procedure for batteries, revival of,’ Monty said, hugging the two torches in his armpits. It worked, and they revived just long enough for Vic to make the adjustments he hoped would bring the system back onto line.

It was as they were feeling their way back down the ladder that they first felt the reverberations in the air. An almost imperceptible growl at first, it grew into a deafening roar that vibrated in their chests as wave after wave of heavy aircraft passed overhead, wing and tail lights a vast twinkling sky of red and white stars.

‘Go get ’em, boys,’ Monty shouted. ‘And come home safe.’

‘Are they Brits or Yanks, do you think?’ Vic asked.

‘Hard to tell in the dark. But they’re brave bastards either way.’

In the receiving room, the screens were a blur of blips.

‘IFF working yet?’ Vic asked.

‘It’s impossible to tell with this lot going over all bunched together,’ Marcia said. ‘Thanks for having a go, anyway.’ She gave him that curious look again. ‘Excuse me, but . . . I have a feeling you might know my friend Kath Motts?’

The sound of her name ran through his body like a jolt of electricity. He swallowed, trying to compose himself, to find the right response. ‘Indeed, yes. Please give Miss Motts my regards, should you see her.’

‘I’ll certainly pass it on,’ she said with a slight smile, before turning back to her screen.

‘Now what do we do?’ Monty asked.

‘Wait here, till they get a chance to test it.’

‘No point in us both staying up all night,’ Monty said after a moment. ‘I’ll take first shift. You go and get some shut-eye.’

Vic checked his watch. It was already ten-thirty. Every bone in his body seemed to ache from the tension of the climb and trying to recalibrate the receiver in the darkness. ‘Are you sure? That’s a darned good offer.’

‘Then accept it, you idiot.’ Monty gave him a friendly shove. ‘I’ll come and get you if there’s a problem. Otherwise I’ll see you at breakfast.’

Snuggled down on his old bed in his old room, waiting for sleep, he heard Johnnie’s whisper: You did well tonight, old mate.

27

It was the one they all hated most, the ‘graveyard shift’: eleven till eight in the morning. Halfway through, around three o’clock, your mind would start to drift off, your eyes longing to close, your shoulders aching from tiredness and tension.

Kath usually went to her room after supper for a few hours’ rest beforehand. It was the wrong time for sleeping, but she found it helped to close her eyes and try to relax. Tonight, she lay awake thinking of Mark. Just after ten o’clock, even before she heard them, she sensed the vibrations. She opened the window and peered out into the night listening to the deafening roar of hundreds of heavy aircraft flying low overhead in the direction of North Germany. The whole building seemed to shake and any further rest was impossible as wave after wave passed over, the noise undiminished for a full half hour until the rear markers passed over the coast and the land went silent again.