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‘It’s when someone living here – even if they’ve been living here for some time – is sent to an internment camp because they’re thought to be an enemy
alien.’

Ursula’s frown deepened and her cheeks were suddenly tinged with pink. ‘I am Swiss,’ she declared firmly, ‘not German. I speak German because that is what is spoken in
Zurich – where I come from. That is all.’ Her accent was even more pronounced.

‘That’s enough, Beth,’ Edie said suddenly, aware that their guest was becoming agitated. She felt sorry for the girl, many miles away from her folks and at Christmas too. She
must be feeling very homesick. She wanted her to feel part of their family even if only for a day. She hoped that the Schofields were doing the same for Reggie and Irene and little Tommy. For a
brief moment, tears threatened to overwhelm her as she remembered, yet again, that she hadn’t even been able to give Tommy his Christmas present in person.

‘I’m so sorry, Ursula,’ Beth was saying swiftly and her tone sounded sincere. ‘I didn’t mean to upset or embarrass you. I was just curious about how you came to
fetch up in Grimsby of all places. Let’s change the subject. How are you getting on at Oldroyd’s, Shirley? What’s the latest fashion in utility garments?’

The conversation moved away from Ursula and the girl seemed to relax. Soon she was laughing and, later, she joined in the games that the Kelsey family always played at Christmas. But for the
rest of the day, Archie was aware that Beth was watching the girl closely and it was no surprise when they were alone later that evening when she said, ‘Dad, what do you think of
Ursula?’

‘I’m not sure, love, but I can see you’re not happy about her. What is it you suspect?’

‘Nothing really.’ Beth twisted a strand of her hair round the forefinger of her left hand – a sure sign that she was concerned about something. ‘Her story is plausible,
but – oh, I don’t know – it’s just a gut feeling, really. But it’s the first time I’ve known Shirley to have a real friend so I don’t want to spoil
that.’

Archie didn’t laugh; Beth’s instincts had always been remarkable, even from childhood, and he wasn’t about to ignore them now, so when she said, ‘Just keep an eye on her,
will you, Dad?’, he agreed readily.

‘I will, love, but all I’d say is, if she’s working for the
Telegraph
, she must be all right. They’ll have vetted her, no doubt about that.’

‘Mm,’ Beth said, but her tone sounded unconvinced.

A few days after Christmas, news filtered through that Hong Kong had surrendered to the Japanese. The news had been deliberately withheld until after the festivities.

‘It’s a good job we had our fun when we did,’ Beth murmured as she hugged her family goodbye. ‘Don’t come to the station this time – please,’ she
begged. She knew – though she hoped none of her family guessed – that it might be a very long time before she saw any of them again.

It was not until March, 1942, that Beth was finally able to go to Scotland. The winter of 1941 and the early part of 1942 was viciously cold and Beth spent the first two months
of the New Year kicking her heels and badgering Sybil Carpenter as to when the next stage of her training would begin.

‘The weather has delayed things in Scotland – that’s where you’ll be going next. Just be patient, Beth. It’ll happen soon enough, I promise, and then maybe
you’ll wish it hadn’t.’

But Beth took no notice of Sybil’s warnings; she was eager to complete her training and to be sent to France.

‘You are amongst the first women we’ve recruited, you know,’ Sybil tried to soothe Beth’s impatience. ‘We have a few women in France already, but not many, and we
want to be sure everything is right before we send more. It’s no good dropping you into the arms of a waiting German, now is it?’

Beth’s common sense came to her rescue. ‘Of course not,’ she agreed meekly. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Carpenter. It’s just . . .’

‘I know,’ Sybil sympathized. ‘You’re keen and we like that, but that enthusiasm must not be allowed to cloud your judgement – or ours. Now, as soon as the next
batch of recruits is to be sent to Scotland, I promise you, you will be one of them.’

Sybil Carpenter kept her promise and, early in March, Beth was given orders to travel. It seemed strange to be on a train, heading north and yet not going home so she was pleased to see one or
two familiar faces from the training at Wanborough Manor.

‘Am I glad to see you!’ said Isobel Montgomery, who was nicknamed Monty, just like the army commander of the same name. It was a fact she invariably dined out on even though, in
truth, she was no relation. She stowed her suitcase on the luggage rack above their heads and almost fell into the seat beside Beth. Monty was a ‘jolly hockey sticks’ type of girl, who
had been privately educated and had been to finishing school in France. Yet there was no ‘side’ to her. Only her rather posh way of talking gave her background away. She had light brown
hair and hazel eyes that were usually dancing with mischief. She was slim and energetic and always ‘up for a laugh’. Really, Beth thought, they were two of a kind and it was natural
that they had gravitated towards each other on the course. They had told each other a little about themselves – which perhaps they should not have done – and yet they instinctively knew
that they could trust each other.

‘And I’m glad to see you too, Monty. I thought there was going to be no one I knew. How’re things? It seems like a lifetime ago now, but how was Christmas with your
folks?’

Monty pulled a face. ‘Awkward.’ There was no need to say any more for Beth understood at once. ‘You?’

‘The same really. It was my dad. He’s very sharp, and we’re very close. I think he knew I was keeping something from him.’ Beth sighed. She’d hated not being able
to confide in her father, but she was sure, in his own way, that he understood. Perhaps he understood a little too much for comfort. But she knew she could trust him and rely on him not to say
anything to anyone else – not even to her mother.

‘Oh, look, there’s Rob.’ Isobel waved to a young man coming towards them. He grinned at them both and sat down on the opposite side of the carriage. Rob was a tall, handsome
young man with brown hair, cut to regulation shortness at the moment, and dark eyes that crinkled when he smiled or laughed. He had a strong, determined jawline and white, even teeth.

‘Hello, you two. OK?’

The girls both nodded.

‘Phil will be here in a moment,’ Rob said. ‘He’s just getting a newspaper. Ah, here he is.’

Phil was smaller than his friend with a slight build that even army training had not improved. His hair was mousey and his complexion rather pallid. But his appearance belied a wiry strength and
Beth thought he could do rather well as an agent. Who would ever suspect someone who looked like a weakling? And his mastery of French was perfect.

The four of them travelled together, chatting or remaining in companionable silence as the mood took them. When they changed trains, the two young men gallantly helped the two young women, but
Monty laughed and said in a low voice, ‘You won’t be able to play Sir Galahad for much longer. It’ll be every man – or women – for themselves soon enough.’

Rob grinned at her. ‘So make the most of it, why don’t you?’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Monty shot back, but she was laughing as she said it, ‘I will.’

‘What marvellous scenery,’ Beth murmured, never taking her gaze from the view outside the train window as they passed the bleak grandeur of Rannoch Moor stretching to the hazy
mountains beyond.

‘It’s cold though.’ Monty shivered dramatically.

Rob, who was still sitting just across the aisle, leaned towards Monty and said softly, ‘It’ll be colder still when you’re swimming in one of the lochs?’

Monty’s face was a picture of horror. ‘We won’t have to do that, will we?’

Rob chuckled, enjoying her discomfort. ‘It’s what I’ve heard.’ Then his expression sobered. ‘Seriously, though. We are in for a rough time, you know.’

But Monty was determined not to be fazed. ‘Oh, I’m tougher than I look.’

‘I hope so,’ Rob murmured.

The final part of the long journey took them through the glorious countryside on the west side of Scotland, ending at Arisaig House, a magnificent, but remote, stone building that would be their
home for the next few weeks.

The atmosphere was now indeed deadly serious and strenuous. They tramped miles over the hills and glens, and were left in the cold and the darkness in the middle of nowhere to find their own way
back to base. Beth surprised herself and her instructors too. Even in the FANY uniform she looked much younger than her twenty-three years and many wondered why she was there. But Beth had a secret
weapon of her own; a sharp, receptive brain coupled with a photographic memory behind her pretty face. Everyone underestimated her. And her instinct was not to be ignored either. She was physically
fit and had a determination unmatched by any of the other candidates. She handled weapons and explosives with care, but with confidence, and learned to shoot with the accuracy of a young woman
brought up to the life of hunting, shooting and fishing.

‘You’ve done this before,’ said one of her instructors, grinning, and was amazed when Beth shook her head.

‘I’ve never even held a gun before – of any kind – until I started training.’

‘You’re kidding me.’ He gazed at her for a moment before asking, ‘What part of Lincolnshire d’you come from, then?’

They had been allowed to speak English here, though amongst themselves in their off-duty time, the girls had decided to speak only French, especially now that they knew what they were being
trained for.

‘Oh crumbs, is it that obvious?’

The middle-aged sergeant, who’d been injured in the Great War and had volunteered to become an instructor at the outbreak of the Second World War, chuckled. ‘Not to most people,
duck, but after the last war, I trained to be a gamekeeper on an estate near Gainsborough. Then I ended up working for a laird up here in Scotland. I married a Scottish lassie, too. But when war
broke out again’ – his expression sobered – ‘I had to volunteer to do my bit. Couldn’t let all my comrades down who didn’t make it back last time.’

Beth touched his arm, moved by his spirit. He’d had no need to volunteer again. He’d more than done his share the last time around. Then, trying to lighten the moment, she said,
‘Well, I’m sorry you’ve recognized my accent – but I’m afraid I’m not going to tell you exactly where I’m from. Careless talk and all that.’

He nodded and murmured, ‘Well done, lass.’

So, she thought, it had been yet another test to see if the friendly approach had made her homesick and loosened her tongue. Had he really recognized the Lincolnshire dialect in her speech or
had he studied her details and concocted the story? No doubt she’d never know.

The following day, the group of young women had to retrieve containers of arms and supplies that had fallen into the loch – just like Rob had warned them.

‘I can’t swim,’ one girl wailed. ‘They never asked us if we could swim.’

‘Yes, they did,’ another girl said. ‘At least, they asked me.’

Beth saw the instructor shake his head and knew that the girl who couldn’t swim would be on the next train home. Luckily, Beth was a strong swimmer, thanks to her father taking the whole
family regularly to the swimming baths, to say nothing of trips to Cleethorpes’ beach in the summer and swimming in the cold North Sea. At the thought of Archie, Beth’s throat prickled
and tears welled in her eyes. She dashed them away impatiently, waded into the freezing water and began to swim towards the package bobbing up and down in the ripples of the loch. Reaching it, she
rested a moment, treading water and then, hooking her arm through the straps, she began to swim back towards the shore. Willing hands pulled her from the water and retrieved the package, whilst
Beth lay gasping on the bank for a few moments.

‘Is it cold?’ Isobel asked.

‘Freezing,’ Beth muttered through chattering teeth. ‘But you can do it, Monty. Go on.’

When they were back at their lodgings, warm and dry once more, Beth and Monty sat together drinking hot cocoa. Monty seemed to have the same determination as Beth and whilst they did not swap
stories, there was empathy between them. Over the remaining two weeks, they watched out for each other, helped each other and quickly became firm friends.

‘Obviously we’re not supposed to tell each other much,’ Beth said, when they were alone in the dining room one evening after dinner had finished and the other girls had
disappeared, ‘but I suppose it’s all right to ask what you plan to do next?’

‘By way of training, you mean?’

‘Mm.’

‘Nothing specific other than the parachute training we’ll all have to do. That’s somewhere near Manchester, isn’t it? What about you?’

‘I’d like to be a wireless operator.’

‘Good for you.’ Monty smiled. ‘Hope you make it. You did brilliantly in the bit of Morse code training we did. I’m just not clever enough. I’ll apply to be a
courier, I think.’

Beth said nothing. She never bragged about her cleverness, but, privately, she believed that if she could pass as a native French speaker in only two years, learning to be a wireless operator
would be a doddle. And besides, she had already proved that she was halfway there, thanks to her father’s Morse code lessons. What would he say now, she thought, if he knew just how she was
going to be putting his teaching to use? Perhaps, she thought wryly, he would regret having taught her.

‘I don’t expect they’ll let us go out together, will they?’ she murmured at last.

‘I doubt it. The fewer people you know in the circuit you’re assigned to, the better, and,’ Monty added with a laugh, ‘we know a bit too much about each other now
I’d say.’

Again Beth said nothing, but she was thinking that she didn’t know a thing about Monty, nor Monty about her. But she assumed Isobel was meaning that they knew each other’s real names
and that they’d trained together. Even that information could be dangerous if divulged to the wrong people.