‘Stop making such a damned fool of yourself, Milly,’ Pearl spat as she batted her sister’s hand away from the shelf. ‘I said leave it!’

The inspector went behind her to reach up and pulled down a leatherbound book. ‘Is this the one you mean?’ They saw him looking carefully at the title. ‘Witches, Spells and Folklore. Ummm, interesting.’

The book next to it had fallen down. He went to set it upright, but then a lacrosse stick perched on top of the books slid towards the floor. Pearl seemed agitated. Something had attracted the inspector’s attention. ‘Give me your handkerchief, Constable,’ he said, standing over the stick so that no one could touch it. ‘That looks like dried blood to me. Looks like we might have found the murder weapon.’

Milly gasped, while Pearl gave her a stony look which would have curdled milk.

Between the two of them, the inspector and the constable wrapped the handle of the lacrosse stick in the clean handkerchief. ‘When we get back to the station, get that finger-printed,’ the inspector said, ‘and check the blood.’

Constable Cox nodded.

Everyone was distracted by the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel outside and Nipper, who had been lying with his head between his paws on the patio, stood up and barked. Leaving the lacrosse stick in the care of his constable, the inspector went into the hallway and opened the front door, as a policeman climbed out of the car. ‘Only one car, Hawes?’

‘Detective Sergeant Drummond is just behind me, sir.’

They were interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream coming from the sitting room. The inspector rushed back inside, closely followed by Hawes and DS Drummond. At the same time, Nipper had come through the front door and pushed his way into the hall between their legs. Constable Cox was lying on the floor. He was out cold, and Pearl, the lacrosse stick in her hand, stood over him.

Seebold had positioned himself in front of her and stood with his hands outstretched. ‘Calm down, miss,’ he was saying. ‘Give me the stick.’ Nipper rushed into the room and began to bark.

Pearl dropped the stick with a clatter.

‘She just hit the poor man and knocked him out,’ Lena gasped as she grabbed the dog’s collar.

As the other policemen piled into the room, Pearl grabbed the cake knife she had dropped earlier and launched herself at Milly. Lena shouted, ‘Look out!’

All at once, Milly was pushed violently against the chest of drawers by Seebold’s bulk as he put himself between the two girls – which meant that Pearl plunged the knife into his shoulder rather than Milly’s chest. He let out a yell and his body curled downwards but he didn’t fall. Nipper barked like mad as Pearl brandished the knife again, this time aiming for Milly’s throat. Before they knew it, the dog had broken free and hurled himself at her, knocking her off balance and giving the other constable a chance to grab her arm and pull her away. As she dropped the knife, the policeman swung her across the small table, knocking the cake to the floor. Having pulled Pearl’s other arm behind her back, the policeman locked on his handcuffs. ‘You are under arrest for attempted murder,’ he began. ‘You do not have to say anything . . .’

Pearl threw back her head and began to laugh; a high-pitched cackle that sent shivers down everyone’s spine. They were all stunned by what they’d just seen, then Milly let out an anguished moan. Seebold had crumpled to the floor, the blood seeping across his shoulder blade and soaking his jacket. Milly grabbed a cushion and pressed it over the cut, while Lena reached for the telephone to ask for an ambulance.

Apart from lifting her legs slightly to get out of the way of tumbling figures, Agatha remained in her chair, watching the proceedings, apparently devoid of all emotion.

She was the only one of them to notice the dog making short work of the cake.

It was two in the morning. Seebold appeared to be asleep. They had taken him to Worthing Hospital and, after examination, the doctor deemed his wound was largely superficial. However, one part of the cut across his shoulder had needed stitches. After he’d been patched up, they decided that he should stay in overnight. While Lena returned to Nan’s cottage to look after her animals, Milly waited in the corridor until the nurse came to say he was back from the treatment room and on the ward.

He looked very peaceful. It was unusual for her to be able to look at him at such close quarters without him seeing her. Someone had pushed his hair back off his forehead and she found herself coaxing a tendril towards his face. It always looked so much more attractive that way. She was looking at his mouth. What would it be like if . . .?

When he opened his eyes and looked at her, Milly felt her cheeks flush. ‘You saved my life,’ she whispered.

‘I would gladly die for you, duchess.’ His voice was croaky, as if his throat was dry. He turned his head towards the locker by his bed where there was a jug of water and a glass.

‘Do you want a drink?’ she asked.

He nodded and heaved himself up on one elbow. As she gave him the drink, his hand covered hers on the glass. Her heart was racing, and a feeling she had never experienced before almost overwhelmed her.

‘Thank you,’ he said, sinking back onto the pillows. ‘I think they’ve given me something. I feel very sleepy.’

She forced a smile. ‘I’ll leave you to rest.’

She had begun to rise but then he opened his eyes and said, ‘No, please don’t go. I like having you here.’

She lowered herself back into the chair and he took her hand in his. They looked at each other but neither of them spoke.

Eventually he murmured, ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Neither do I.’

‘I love you, duchess,’ he whispered. ‘But I have nothing to offer you.’

‘Do you really think I care about that?’ she said, her head close to his.

‘I want you to have good things,’ he said sleepily. ‘I want to give . . .’

She put her finger over his lips. ‘Shh,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve already given me something wonderful. Something I haven’t had, or at least, not for a long, long time.’

He seemed puzzled.

‘You’ve just told me you love me,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know. I’ve been so blind. It never occurred to me that you felt the same way I do.’

He tried to pull himself up on his elbow again but failed miserably. ‘You mean . . .?’

‘Yes, yes, my darling, she whispered. ‘I love you too.’

The moment was magical, but soon Milly heard the sound of Seebold’s snores as he had drifted back to sleep.

Chapter 42

October 1939

Milly went over and over the letter when it arrived from the Civil Defence Camouflage Establishment. She had made it through the selection and had been offered a face-to-face interview on Friday 13 October, but now that it was something concrete, part of her held back. It was obvious that if she acted upon this, her life would be changed for ever. It would mean a move far away from Worthing and her sister. Now that she and Seebold were together, she couldn’t bear the thought of being away from him either. And yet, even as she pondered the problem, she knew in her heart of hearts that – because of the present situation – they couldn’t be together in the conventional sense of the word. The country was at war. Any moment now Hitler might send his mighty army across the Channel to smash all that was near and dear to them. Now that Poland had fallen, it seemed there was no stopping him. Of course France and the Netherlands would be the first in line, but if these fell then he would set his sights on the British Isles. Everyone in the country was holding their breath. What future now for a young couple hopelessly in love?

She and Seebold had talked for hours. ‘I reckon it’ll be all over by Christmas,’ he’d said.

‘Then perhaps joining the unit is not worth the bother.’

‘It’s up to you, darling, and I’ll totally support whatever you decide, but I think we all need to show Hitler we mean business. He’s less likely to go that one step further if we’re all ready to meet his threat.’

It was for that very same reason Seebold had joined the army, and right now he was in Durham, doing his basic training. It had been agony saying their goodbyes, and even now Milly felt teary as she remembered the moment his train pulled out of the station. She knew at the time that they wouldn’t be together for at least six weeks, but seven and a half weeks had passed already and he still wasn’t back. She’d written every day, but he’d only managed to scribble the odd note to say that he still loved her. He was so busy he barely had time to think, the army demanded so much from him. His all too short letters had been censored, but from the bits that had escaped the black pen, she gathered that his days were taken up with learning to use a rifle, lots of marching and not having a lot to eat. She’d smiled at that last bit. Poor Seebold. He always enjoyed a healthy appetite.

Milly’s letter was an invitation to go to Leamington Spa for an interview. Her geography was woefully lacking, but it didn’t take long to discover that she had to go to Warwickshire. She set off from Worthing Central. The journey took four hours and involved lots of changes: Worthing to Barnham, Barnham to Southampton, Southampton to Leamington Spa. The trains were packed, mostly with service people or young men who were joining up. She was lucky enough to get a seat with each change, but some poor souls only had their kitbag to sit on in the corridor. Left to her own thoughts, she relived some of the wonderful times she’d had with Seebold before he went for his basic training. Long walks up Cissbury Ring and the Gallops; early evenings sitting on the beach before they started putting up barbed-wire sea defences; bumping along in the passenger seat of his lorry while he took the last of his fairground equipment to a prospective buyer. She closed her eyes as she recalled the warmth of his kisses and the times when her heart raced if he touched her hand or interlaced his fingers with hers. Oh Seebold. I miss you so. She dozed for a while but, as the day wore on, she had to fight her sleepiness. All the station signs had been taken down in case of enemy invasion, and so she needed to be alert or she’d miss her stop. At around midday they pulled into a station, and to her relief she heard one of the station staff shouting, ‘Leamington Spa, this is Leamington Spa.’

The station itself was beautiful. Completely refurbished only a couple of years before, it was a refreshing change from the old Victorian stations she was used to. Built in an Art Deco style with clean lines and geometric shapes, the waiting room had parquet flooring and a simple marble fireplace under a GWR mirror. Before she set off for her appointment, she sat in the ladies’ waiting room and ate her sandwiches. There had been little opportunity to eat on the journey. How could she, when there were seven of them wedged on the carriage seat made for five. She could hardly move her arms. Having taken a minute or two to freshen up, Milly went on her way with the map she had been given to find the HQ of the Camouflage Unit in the Regent Hotel on the Parade.

She was surprised to find it was only a stone’s throw away from the station. From there she was taken by taxi to another location, which was in a two-storey building with a flat roof. All the windows were boarded up and to any passers-by it looked as if it was ready for demolition. When she knocked on the door, Milly was totally taken aback when it flew open, and she was facing none other than Stanley Richardson.

‘Oh!’

‘Miss Shepherd,’ he said kindly. ‘I’m so pleased you could come.’