15

We were picking our way back through the undergrowth when we heard the German. Everyone froze, even the -children.

The sergeant turned to his two men. He made a hand gesture, forking his fingers, pointing at each man in turn and giving them a direction. They nodded and slipped silently into the trees.

I pulled Frankie and Elizabeth towards me and knelt down, face to face with them. They were pale with fear.

‘Probably someone messing around,’ I said, keeping my voice low.

Frankie shook his head. I knew what he was thinking. It was what we were all thinking.

‘Parachutist,’ he said.

Parachutist.

I hadn’t told Frankie about what I’d seen last night. I hadn’t told anyone. But the word was on everybody’s lips, on every front page. Hitler’s not-so-secret weapon, responsible for the fall of Belgium and the Netherlands. Elite troops dropped behind enemy lines, tasked with killing and gathering intelligence.

‘There aren’t any parachutists here,’ I said, hoping my confident tone would cut off any further discussion.

I scanned the area, looking for somewhere I could hide the children. I found what I was looking for, an ancient holly bush, dense with green leaves. I pointed to it and whispered.

‘Hide in there.’

Elizabeth clutched my arm and shook her head vigorously.

‘Don’t leave us,’ she hissed.

‘I can do more if I’m alone,’ I said. ‘I’ll find out what’s going on, then I’ll come back and get you out.’

Elizabeth was vibrating, her jaw clenched.

‘You said you’d look after me.’

‘I’ll come back,’ I said. ‘I promise.’

She dropped her eyes, and I felt the last bit of trust she had in me disappear.

I pushed them towards the holly bush. Frankie pulled a branch aside and crawled in. They’d get a nice collection of scratches, but better that than be found by an advance party of Germans.

Elizabeth followed him. I’d have time to apologise to her later, if all went well.

The German voice came and went. One man, talking, as if he was giving a speech. It was difficult to work out the distance. One minute it sounded close, then it seemed to get more distant. At times it disappeared entirely.

The sergeant had gone, following the sound. I followed.

It sounded like the man was at the edge of the woods, or in the field. Either way it was between me and the farmhouse, where Mum and Nob were left unprotected. I picked up my pace.

At the edge of the woods, I caught up with the sergeant, crouched in the drainage ditch on the other side of the barbed-wire fence. The Polish soldier was forty yards to our left, same position, crouched in the ditch. I looked right. The third soldier slid under the fence, down into the ditch. We had a good vantage point across the open field, looking north up towards the house. The field was empty. No German scouting party. No parachutists.

I rolled under the lower strand of barbed wire and slid down into the drainage ditch to confer with the sergeant. As I reached him I heard the voice again. Difficult to locate. It sounded like it was from above us, coming out of the ether. I didn’t speak German but he sounded like he was giving a briefing. A confident man, an officer perhaps.

The sergeant looked at me, at a loss. I shook my head. We looked along the ditch. The Polish soldier shrugged.

I stood up, wincing against the anticipated zip of a bullet, followed by the crack from the rifle. I put my hand on the fence, superstitious, like the barbed wire had conjured the voice.

The voice stopped. Rabbits nibbled grass along the edge of the field. They watched me warily. If there had been another man out there, they’d have disappeared back into their burrows.

The three soldiers stood up, looking around, as confused as I was.