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‘And you think you’re any less of a brute, because I know exactly what you’re planning to do if you find that poor girl,’ Raoul said.

Some of the group had peeled away and were wandering into the outbuildings and even into the farmhouse. With a supreme effort, Emile kept his gaze firmly fixed on Maurice’s face; he
didn’t want to give away any hint as to where Beth was hiding.

There was a moment’s pause whilst some of the men shuffled their feet and murmured to each other, their uneasy glance coming back to Maurice. And then came the shout that Emile had dreaded
to hear. ‘She’s here. In the hayloft. We’ve got her.’

Emile met Maurice’s accusing gaze squarely, but he kept silent. Two men appeared out of the barn dragging Beth between them.

‘Fetch a chair from the kitchen,’ Maurice barked. ‘And tie her to it. Philippe’ – he beckoned the village barber – ‘get your scissors ready.’

Emile struggled again, but he was held fast.

‘You barbarians,’ Raoul shouted. ‘She’s no more a collaborator than you are, Maurice Arnaud. Let her go.’

Maurice spun round and shook his fist in Raoul’s face. ‘Hold your tongue, Détange, else the same will happen to your wife for having sheltered her.’ Raoul glared at him
and then his wrinkled face fell into lines of disappointment and sadness. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing, Maurice,’ he said softly now. ‘Yes, we helped her, we
sheltered her, but she was working with us, for us. If you don’t believe me, look at her feet. There’s the proof.’

‘Take no notice of him, Maurice,’ Philippe said, brandishing his scissors as Beth, her eyes wide and frightened, was tied to one of Marthe’s kitchen chairs. With an expression
of fiendish delight, Philippe grasped a handful of Beth’s hair and hacked at its roots. Her dark locks fluttered to the ground and were blown away by the wind. Beth bit down hard on her
bottom lip and kept her gaze fixed on Emile’s face. She could see tears in his eyes; this brave man who had suffered countless dangers was shedding tears over the loss of her hair. The sight
of his acute distress was almost the undoing of her. The image of his smile, of the love in his eyes even though it had never been spoken of between them, had kept up her courage during her time of
captivity, but to see him now – and he was weeping openly – was harder to bear than the indignity she was suffering.

When Philippe had cut away as much of her hair as he could with his scissors, he drew a razor from his pocket and without soap or water ran it over her head, leaving small cuts and scrapes on
her scalp. Then, with a cruel smile, he stood back to admire his handiwork.

‘And what would your German lover think of you now, eh?’ he smirked.

Slowly, Beth turned her face towards him, gathered a globule of spittle in her mouth and spat at his feet. Incensed, the man drew back his hand and struck her across the face with such force
that she fell sideways, only the restraints kept her from falling off the chair to the ground.

With a roar, Raoul pulled himself free and strode across the yard. He knelt beside her and cradled her head on his shoulder. He glanced up at Maurice and then bent and untied the laces of
Beth’s shoes. As he slipped them off her feet, the men drew closer and saw for themselves where her toenails on her left foot had been wrenched out.

For a brief moment, Maurice looked shame-faced, but then he muttered, ‘That’s no proof. They could have done that to her to cover the truth.’

‘You think so, eh?’ Raoul said bitterly. ‘Well, let me tell you, Emile is right. The English sent this girl over here as a wireless operator. Her cover was here, working on my
farm. She has risked her life and this is the thanks you give her.’ As Beth began to come round, he stood up. ‘Release my wife and Emile and get off my land. You’re not welcome
here any more, Arnaud. Nor any of you.’ He waved his arm to encompass them all.

As the men, muttering amongst themselves, turned away, Emile untied the bonds fastening Beth to the chair and tenderly carried her into the farmhouse. Now that they were out of earshot, her
courage failed and she clung to Emile, sobbing against his shoulder whilst Raoul tried to comfort Marthe. She, too, was weeping inconsolably. ‘Oh Leonie, poor Leonie. Look what they’ve
done to her. The brutes! How could they do that after all she’s been through?’ It was difficult after all the months of using Beth’s cover name to call her anything else. It would
take time for the fear of being in daily danger to lessen. And it would be a long time before the memory of Beth’s humiliation – and hurt – suffered at the hands of both the enemy
and, now, their own people would be erased.

Emile held her close and kissed her shorn head trying to show her by his loving action that what had happened made no difference to his feelings for her.

‘You must go home,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll get you home.’

But, with her face buried in his chest, she shook her head. ‘I can’t. I can’t go home looking like this. I can’t
ever
go home.’

May 1945

‘It’s looking like it’s finally over, then. We’re all just waiting for an official announcement from the Prime Minister, but plans for the celebrations
are starting already.’

‘That’s all very well,’ Edie frowned, ‘but when are they all coming home? That’s what I want to know.’

‘I expect Irene and Tommy will be the first to come back. There’s no need for them to stay in the countryside any longer, is there? I can’t wait to see our Tommy. Fancy,
he’s going to school already, so Irene said in her last letter. And your Reggie will have grown too. He’ll be school-leaving age now, won’t he? You can hardly credit it, can
you?’

‘It’s been a long time,’ Edie sighed. ‘I just wish we’d been able to see them more often, but it was always difficult, wasn’t it, even though they were only a
few miles away?’

Lil said nothing. The war had made it even harder for her to eke out her earnings; she hadn’t been able to afford many jaunts into the countryside.

‘But I’ll tell you summat, Lil. I’m not letting our Reggie go to sea. It’ll be over my dead body if he does.’

‘What about Frank? D’you reckon he’ll go back to sea when he does get home?’

Edie shrugged. ‘I expect so. It’s all he knows.’ She paused, remembering the quarrel with Archie. ‘If he can find owt, that is.’

They were silent for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts about the changes that were to take place soon.

‘So,’ Edie said at last, ‘when can we take down the blackout and start trying to get back to normal?’

‘Normal?’ Lil murmured. ‘What’s that?’

‘Well, y’know, before all this started. Get back to how we was before.’

Lil eyed her friend sorrowfully as she said softly, ‘Edie, duck, we’ll never get back to how things were before the war.’

Edie placed her cup gently back onto its saucer and met her friend’s gaze. ‘Then,’ she said, resolutely, ‘we’ll just have to make a new life, won’t
we?’

‘Edie – I’ve had a letter from Irene. They’re coming home on Tuesday.’

‘Aw, Lil, that’s grand. What about Reggie? Is he coming an’ all?’

Lil bit her lip. ‘She doesn’t say, Edie. Sorry.’ Suddenly, Lil seemed ill at ease. ‘I’ll have to go, duck. I’m going into town to do a bit of shopping. Owt
you want?’

‘Don’t think so, Lil. I’ll have to go myself tomorrow.’

‘Ta-ra, then.’ Lil scuttled away and it wasn’t until she closed her own back door behind her and leaned against it, closing her eyes for a moment, that she let out a sigh of
relief. She had indeed had a letter from her daughter but she hadn’t taken it with her to Edie’s in case her friend expected to be allowed to read it. When the rare letters came from
Frank to Edie, or, even rarer, the postcards from Beth, Edie had always let Lil read them. And she, in turn, had always shared her letters from Irene with Edie, but today she couldn’t show
her friend this particular letter. There was news of Reggie but Lil didn’t want to be the one to tell his mother.

‘I’ve had a letter an’ all,’ Edie said on the Monday evening when Lil came round for tea. The two women often shared tea together when Archie was away.
‘From Reggie. He definitely doesn’t want to come home. He wants to stay in the country. Did you know?’ There was accusation in her tone.

‘No – yes, I –’ Lil was suddenly flustered, but she couldn’t carry on a deliberate lie. There’d never been any secrets between the two friends, not in all the
years they’d known each other. She sighed heavily. ‘Irene mentioned it in her letter, but I didn’t tell you then because I thought mebbe she’d got it wrong – or
he’d change his mind.’

Edie sniffed but said nothing, though her tone was a little stiff when she said, ‘Well, evidently he hasn’t. He’s so taken up with the farming way of life that he wants to stay
there.’

‘At least he won’t be wanting to go to sea, Edie,’ Lil said with surprising craftiness.

Edie wrinkled her forehead and, mollified a little, she said, ‘That’s true, Lil. I hadn’t looked at it like that. But – not to want to come home to us – I
can’t understand that.’

‘He’s not so far away. It’s not as if they went into Derbyshire like Mrs Griffin’s children. When things get easier, you an’ Archie’ll be able to go and see
him and he’ll come home every so often, surely.’

‘I – dunno.’ Edie was clearly still upset to think that her youngest son didn’t want to come back home. She’d lost one already; Laurence was never coming back. She
couldn’t bear to think that she’d lose another.

‘Still, there’s Frank,’ Edie went on, making a supreme effort to cheer up. ‘He’ll be home soon and then him and Irene can find a little house somewhere near.
We’ll be able to see little Tommy every day. He’ll want to come to see both his grannies, now won’t he?’

Lil nodded, but she was chewing her lip nervously. It had to be said. ‘They say that our lads won’t get home immediately. ’Specially, those that went in a bit later on in the
war like – like Frank.’

Edie stared at her for a moment before saying flatly, ‘Oh.’ She turned away, muttering to herself so that Lil hardly heard. ‘But at least he
will
come home.’

Lil cleared her throat, trying to change the subject. ‘When’s Archie due in? Will he be here before Tuesday?’

Tuesday loomed large in Lil’s world. It would be so good to have Irene and Tommy home again and to have company in the house, even if only until Frank came home and the little family
wanted to set up in their own home. At least she’d have them with her for a few weeks, maybe even months.

‘No, he’s not due back until the middle of next week. Still,’ Edie turned back towards her friend with a smile, her good humour restored, ‘it’ll be nice for you
an’ me to have Irene and little Tommy to ourselves for a bit, won’t it? And Shirley’ll be home any day. In her letter last week, she said she’d got leave soon.’

Lil nodded, relieved that Edie was once again seeing the positive side of things.

At that moment Edie’s back door opened with a rattle and Jessie breezed in, ‘Right,’ she said, without any kind of formal greeting, ‘are we organizing a street party
tomorrow, then? Like we did for the coronation in thirty-seven? It’s what our street does best.’

Edie and Lil, sitting at the table with a cup of tea in front of them, looked up at her in amazement. It was late – even by Jessie’s standards – to be paying calls. Tea, which
Edie and Lil often shared when Archie was away, was over.

‘Party? What sort of party? It’s nobody’s birthday, is it?’

‘No, but the war’s over. VE day’s set for tomorrow and Mr Churchill’s going to speak to the nation.’

Lil frowned. ‘Are you sure, Jessie? I just listened to the six o’clock news and they said that the Prime Minister won’t be broadcasting tonight.’

‘That’s right, but he will be tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock. They’ve just interrupted programmes to say that tomorrow will be VE day – Victory in Europe.
Several folks must have heard it too,’ she waved her hand airily towards the street, ‘as I came up; they’re outside now hanging out the flags, stringing bunting across the street
and decorating their front windows. So, what about it?’

Edie and Lil glanced at each other. ‘I don’t see why not,’ Edie said, a slow smile spreading across her face. ‘It looks as if we’ve got summat to celebrate now. And
Irene and Tommy are due tomorrow, an’ all. We’d best get our thinking caps on, Lil, to see what food we can contribute.’

‘I baked this morning ready for Irene and Tommy coming home so I can spare some cakes,’ Lil pulled a wry face, ‘though they’re only wartime recipes, I’m
afraid.’

Edie laughed. ‘So did I, so we can rustle up quite a bit between us. And I can make some Spam sandwiches.’

‘And I’ll make a jelly or two.’

‘I haven’t had time to bake, but I’ll let you have whatever I can.’ Jessie smiled archly. ‘I’ve been busy organizing this for the last four days ever since we
knew the war was really going to be over. I’m very sorry I didn’t come and tell you sooner. Now, I’ve got to go and see a man about some trestle tables.’ She stood up to
leave. ‘And I’ll get Harry to go up into the loft tonight. I’m sure we’ve got a flag up there somewhere.’

‘We’ve got some bunting in our loft,’ Edie said. ‘Tell Harry to come round early tomorrow morning and he can fetch it down.’

As she turned to go, Jessie said over her shoulder, ‘Oh, and by the way, get your best frocks on. The Mayor’s agreed to come and hand out a threepenny bit to every child.’

Edie and Lil gaped at her as Jessie wiggled her fingers in farewell and left the way she had come in. They heard her high heels tapping down the passage before either of them spoke.

‘Right,’ Edie said with renewed vigour. ‘Let’s get started, Lil. We’ll give the kids in the street the best party they’ll ever remember. Poor scraps
haven’t had any fun for years. Some won’t even remember a time before this country was at war. Tommy certainly won’t. He weren’t even born then. Let’s hope him and his
mam get here before it’s all over.’ She sniffed. ‘Even if Reggie thinks he’s too good to come back to our humble home.’

Early the next morning, the street was bustling with folks hanging out yet more flags and bunting and every house had some sort of decoration in its front windows. Someone
dragged a piano out of their front room onto the pavement and a motley collection of instruments from mouth organs to accordions appeared in readiness to make a merry, jubilant noise. Every
household contributed what they could and by early afternoon, a veritable mountain of food appeared on the assorted collection of tables that had been placed in a long line down the centre of the
street. Each household provided chairs and tablecloths and the excitement amongst the children grew to fever pitch until they were running up and down, shouting and laughing as if they had been let
out of prison. And, indeed, to them, and to the adults too, that was exactly what it felt like. Finally, they were all released from the constraints of wartime; from shortages – though
rationing would continue for several months, perhaps even years – from the blackout and from the fear of bombing raids. Everyone was out on the street.