Kath’s savings were dwindling fast. ‘No job, no money, no boyfriend, no qualifications, nothing to do. I’m so bored,’ she groaned, trying to stir herself to go out for the shopping Ma had asked for. ‘Something’s got to turn up soon.’

It did. Ma announced that one of the kitchen assistants at the Bawdsey Research Station had got herself pregnant – ‘stupid girl’, she muttered – and left the job. ‘Come with me tomorrow, Kath. You can meet the chef and get a feel for the place.’

She hesitated at first. What if the guards recognised her, or if her name was on a list of potential spy suspects? It would all come out in the open then, and what if Ma got the sack because of it? And who wanted to spend their days as a kitchen assistant, anyway?

‘What’s the problem, kid?’ Pa asked. ‘Sounds like the job would be perfect.’

‘Peeling potatoes and washing up?’ she retorted, but he just shook his head.

‘Beggars can’t be choosers, my girl.’

So when Ma pressed her again, she relented. She’d always wanted to see inside the Manor anyway, and surely it was worth the risk of being recognised? As it turned out, the guards gave Ma a cheery smile and they were waved through the barrier with scarcely a second glance.

She would never forget that first morning. It wasn’t raining, but it was blowing a gale and starting to snow. Shivering in the ferry boat despite several jumpers and her warmest coat, she couldn’t imagine how anyone would ever want to endure this ordeal just to get to work each day. The make-up she’d so carefully applied was starting to run, her hair was flattened under Mark’s woolly football hat and her hands were frozen inside two pairs of gloves.

‘I must look a fright,’ she said as they jumped down onto the beach, trying not to get their feet wet. She nearly managed it until a sneaky wave caught her, soaking her shoes and socks. Fortunately Ma always took a spare pair, just in case. ‘There’s a warm cloakroom where we can change into our overalls, and our stuff will dry on the radiators by the time we come home,’ she said. ‘You’ll soon get used to the routine.’

As they trudged up the driveway, a veil of snow parted to reveal the Manor. It was even more impressive than she’d imagined, with the red towers standing out sharply against the white expanse of the cricket lawn below. The filigree carved stonework of the terraces and balconies were picked out in snow and shadow; the turrets of the towers, usually copper green, were capped in white. A glimmer of sun peeped through the cloud, illuminating the scene like an illustration from a fairy-tale book. Only the damp seeping through her boots reminded Kath that this was not some kind of dream.

She’d been hoping they would enter through the grand front porch, and was disappointed when Ma led her towards a gate concealed in the wall beyond. A narrow passageway led to a further door, through which they entered the largest kitchen Kath had ever seen.