‘That is very kind, sir.’ One of the brightest? Vic felt the back of his neck flushing hotly.

‘And that you are interested in radio waves?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Would you care to tell me more about your work?’

Vic began to describe the research he was carrying out for his doctorate and what he hoped to prove. Watson-Watt leaned forward in his chair, nodding encouragingly, interrupting every now and again with searching questions. As the conversation progressed Vic felt his excitement rising: this man knew his subject in such depth and such breadth, so much more than anyone else he’d ever met. But why on earth could he be interested in the research of a mere post-graduate?

At last, Watson-Watt sat back in his chair. ‘Mr Mackensie, you have told me enough to convince me that you are the right man for our team.’

His team? Vic shook his head, bemused.

‘Didn’t they tell you? Well, no, probably not, as I didn’t tell them either. It’s all very hush-hush, you see, and I can’t really say what we’re up to except that I’m looking for a few extra bods for a government project. Particularly physicists. They talk my language. Would you like to join us?’

‘My goodness, I am very flattered, sir,’ Vic mumbled, scarcely knowing what he really felt. This was all a bit of a whirlwind, and there were so many unanswered questions. Most of all he was concerned about his students, and the assistants he’d been working with at the lab.

‘But just to reassure me,’ Mr Watson-Watt said, ‘I’m sorry to be so personal, but I do have to ask. You are British, aren’t you?’

‘Oh yes, sir. My father is Scottish, my mother Indian, but I have been in this country nearly a decade now and have a British passport. Since my mother died, my father has returned and now lives in Tunbridge Wells.’

‘That’s fine, thank you. Have you got any questions? Not that I’ll be able to tell you much, not until you’re cleared for security.’

‘Could I stay in Cambridge and continue my research?’

‘No, you would have to come and work alongside the rest of us, and I’m afraid that would mean putting your doctorate on hold. But Rutherford here assures me that you can always pick it up again when we’re done.’

‘Where will I be moving to?’

‘Sorry, can’t say.’

‘And how long do you think the project will take?’

Watson-Watt’s genial expression slipped for the first time. ‘If I knew, laddie, I’d tell you. But no one can predict. It’s in the hands of the politicians, heaven help us. Let’s just call it “for the duration”.’

It finally dawned on Vic what the man was talking about: the project was ‘war work’. This was perhaps the most exciting and at the same time most terrifying decision of his life, yet he barely hesitated. ‘Then I’m with you, sir. For as long as it takes.’

‘Good man, good man.’ Watson-Watt pulled from his pocket a small buff envelope. ‘Welcome to the team. They’ll send you the date for an interview in London, but assuming you aren’t a German spy or an invading Martian, we’ll see you in a few weeks’ time. We’ll enlighten you more when you arrive. I hope that gives you enough time to wrap up here?’