Dinner was a stew of rabbit cooked in red wine, served on a bed of buttery mashed potatoes. Afterward there was an alarmingly smelly, round, runny cheese which Ben eyed warily until he saw Lotti smear it onto pieces of crusty French bread. The cheese was followed by an apple tart so light and delicious he wondered if he had ever truly eaten dessert before. During the meal, Henri asked Ben and Lotti to explain their plan for finding Sam, and listened carefully as they told him how they aimed to take the Sparrowhawk to the site of the hospital-bombing near Buisseau, and to interview the farmer who had known Nathan, in the hope that he could tell them something about where Sam was taken, and to visit neighboring hospitals.

“And when will you leave, on this brave quest?” asked the captain.

It was kindly meant, but Ben and Lotti bridled at the indulgent tone.

“As soon as we’re ready,” said Ben. “I need to check over the Sparrowhawk after the storm, and buy provisions, and also plan our route. Most likely the day after tomorrow at first light.”

“Well, I wish you luck.” Henri raised his glass. “To a heroic journey! And to new friends.”

He smiled warmly at Clara, who blushed and looked away.

Later, when Ben and Lotti were lying in their trim twin beds in a little bedroom under the hotel eaves, Lotti said out loud what they were both thinking.

“He doesn’t believe we can do it, does he?”

“No,” said Ben. “He’s just trying to impress Clara.”

Lotti propped herself up on an elbow to look at him. “Do you think he’s in love with her?”

“Maybe. But it’s awfully quick. I mean, they’ve only just met.”

Lotti lay back down and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Does that matter?” she asked. “People do fall in love at once. Just like I knew as soon as I met you that we were going to be friends.”

“I don’t know. She looks sad.”

“She always looks sad,” said Lotti dismissively. “Ben! I’ve just had an awful thought—do you think they’re going to want to come with us?”

“He might be helpful,” said Ben. “Frank was.”

“We needed Frank,” said Lotti. “We don’t need him or Clara. He’ll just flounce about giving orders to impress her, and she’ll keep telling us we really ought to go back to England.”

Ben twisted round to look at her. “You’re cross with her,” he said.

“No, I’m not,” scoffed Lotti. “I’m just being practical. It’s going to be hard enough doing what we have to do without dragging around people who don’t believe in us. We’ll have to tell them they can’t come.”

There was a short silence in which they both tried to imagine telling Henri and Clara they weren’t wanted, then Ben said, “Lotti?”

“What?”