Finally, after a long, cold wait, a car drew up and a man climbed out. ‘Has anyone seen to you, love?’

Milly felt a bit of an idiot because she was in the middle of groaning with pain and holding her leg. The way he spoke made her sit up. ‘No. I’ve been here for ages.’

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Hop in. We’re done now. They’re all having a cup of tea in Marine Gardens.’

Freddie dropped his wife at the junction of Oxford Street and Regent Street.

‘I’ll be back in a couple of hours,’ he told her. ‘Don’t be late.’

Pearl gave him a perfunctory wave and disappeared into the crowd. Freddie set off down Regent Street towards Piccadilly Circus. From there he headed towards Carlton House Terrace and Prussia House, which was close to Pall Mall. As he parked the car, he couldn’t help noticing the smell of burning, and that the air was filled with small pieces of charred paper. It seemed to be coming from one of the chimneys. He mounted the steps and rang the bell twice before he pounded on the door.

It was several minutes before anyone opened the door, and even then the person on the other side only opened it a crack. ‘Yes, what do you want?’ he said in German.

‘It’s me,’ said Freddie. ‘I’ve come to see Christoph.’ The door opened fully and he stepped inside. ‘And you might like to know that the whole street is covered with burnt paper. I think your chimney is on fire.’

‘It isn’t,’ said the man, whom Freddie recognised as Gunther, one of the junior secretaries. ‘We are getting rid of papers.’

‘But why?’

‘You know how it works,’ said the man. ‘The British tell their people to leave Germany and then we tell ours to get out of the UK.’

Puzzled, Freddie followed him down the corridor. As he opened another door, for a second or two the people in the room froze. One of them was Christoph. The room was filled with smoke and the floor was covered with files. As soon as they saw it was only Freddie, the men continued to systematically empty the files and rip up the papers inside. The ripped-up documents were then piled next to the fireplace, where Christoph was throwing them onto the fire and stoking it, but the flat pieces of paper were reluctant to burn. Busy with their tasks, no one looked round at him. Freddie started coughing.

Christoph snapped his neck around. ‘What do you want?’ he asked irritably. ‘Can’t you see we’re busy?’

‘I need to talk to you,’ Freddie spluttered. Christoph gave him an impatient glare. ‘In private,’ Freddie insisted.

His handler rose to his feet and another secretary took his place. The two men walked from the room and went next door.

‘Well?’ Christoph demanded as he helped himself to a whisky.

‘I need to get away,’ said Freddie. ‘I must have diplomatic papers.’

‘Don’t be an ass,’ said Christoph. ‘I can’t give you that.’

‘But you have to,’ Freddie cried. ‘I’ve put my life on the line for you. If I stay here and they find out what I’ve been up to, I shall be arrested, put in prison – perhaps executed as an enemy agent.’

Christoph shrugged. ‘You knew what you were doing,’ he said coldly. ‘Just sit tight. You’ll be fine.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Freddie said desperately. ‘Look, I think someone may know about the ice house, and now that I’ve got all that stuff in there, what the hell am I going to do with it?’

Christoph downed his drink. ‘I’ve told you. Just sit tight. Say nothing. Now, I have to get back to work. We’ve got to get rid of that lot before we go, and we’ve only got a few hours left.’

‘You’re leaving?’ Freddie gasped.

‘Tonight,’ said Christoph, turning to leave the room. ‘The bloody balloon’s gone up. The announcement will probably come sometime tomorrow or maybe on Sunday.’

Freddie leapt in front of him. ‘You can’t leave me here,’ he said desperately. His eyes were wild. ‘You know who my uncle is. What’s he going to say if you arrive in Berlin and tell him you left me to my fate?’

‘I’m sorry but it’s too late, old man,’ said Christoph, his voice softening slightly. ‘We’ve only got hours to get out ourselves. We’re sailing from Harwich first thing in the morning.’ He took Freddie’s arm and ushered him towards the door. ‘Look, if you want to come with us, go back home and tidy up any loose ends. There’s a couple of ships heading for Holland tomorrow. We might be lucky enough to get you on board.’

‘But I’ll need tickets,’ Freddie said desperately.

Christoph took in a breath as his nostrils flared. ‘Gunther,’ he shouted and, as the junior secretary appeared in the doorway, he added, ‘You see to this, will you? Just give him what he wants.’

Out on the street, Freddie was so angry it took a few moments to collect his thoughts. He kicked himself that he’d left all his paperwork and his passport back home. If only he’d had them in his coat pocket, he would have simply left his wife and gone. Even now he toyed with the idea of going straight back to Worthing and telling his mother-in-law he was just popping out for a minute before disappearing for good. But then it occurred to him that she’d probably set up a hue and cry, which could mean he’d be stopped before he even boarded ship. Besides, Christoph said he should tidy up any loose ends, and he had one which was more than an irritation. Once that was sorted, he would be free to leave. Harwich was about three hours from London and the return trip to Worthing about the same. He glanced at his watch. There was still time to do it, if he could find Pearl quickly enough.

As luck would have it, when Milly knocked on the door of Muntham Court, her mother was alone in the house. After a lot of thought, Milly was sure she should tell her mother and sister of her suspicions. They might not listen; in fact they would most likely be horrible, but Milly knew she would never forgive herself if something happened to them because of her silence.

Agatha seemed far from pleased to see her daughter. ‘What do you want?’ she said curtly.

‘I just wanted to see how you are.’ They stood motionless, just staring at each other. ‘Can I come in?’

Reluctantly Agatha stepped aside. The hallway was littered with suitcases.

‘Going away?’ Milly asked.

‘Pearl’s husband is taking us to his ancestral home in Germany.’

‘Is that wise?’ Milly blurted it out without thinking. Her mother gave her a cold glare. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to interfere.’

‘Then don’t,’ said Agatha, turning towards the sitting room.

‘It’s just that I worry about you and Pearl,’ said Milly, following her. ‘What with all this talk of war . . .’

‘Freddie assures us that’s just what it is. Talk.’

‘When do you go?’

‘Tonight,’ said Agatha, pouring herself a whisky. ‘We sail from Harwich in the morning.’

Milly stood with her mouth open. They were leaving the country and they hadn’t bothered to tell her? How could they? ‘When will you be back?’ she asked faintly.

‘Oh, we shan’t,’ Agatha said as she sat down and gracefully crossed her legs. ‘Why should we? This country is finished.’

‘How can you say that, Mother? This is where you were born. You do realise that Germany will soon declare war on Britain.’

‘Don’t be a fool, girl,’ said Agatha. ‘Herr Hitler has said on more than one occasion that if Britain rests with Germany, war will not come again.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘If we don’t interfere,’ Agatha snapped irritably, ‘Hitler will not declare war.’

Milly closed her eyes. It was no use. Her mother was adamant.

‘Anyway,’ Agatha continued, ‘we shall be fine. We shall live with Freddie. Did you know that he’s a baron?’ She paused, then added, ‘Of course you did. So you can have your damned house back right now; no need to wait until you’re twenty-one.’

Milly’s throat tightened as she lowered herself down into a chair. ‘Why, Mother?’ she asked. ‘Why do you hate me so much? What did I do to make you feel this way?’