Dorabella and I could not hide the fact that we were deeply mortified.

“Don’t ’ee fret, Miss,” said one of the old men. “Couldn’t be expected to know ’em … not coming from these parts. Us ’as seen ’em time and time again. ’Tis familiar like to us.”

Gordon said: “You did well.” And raising his voice, he added: “We have been shown tonight that we are well protected. If anything should happen we should have had our warning.”

It was something which would never be forgotten. Of course, it was the phosphorescence of fishes’ scales we had seen and which had deluded us into thinking they were lights on boats. It was something of a joke but people tittered when they saw us.

We knew what they were saying. “What could ’ee expect from a batch of foreigners? Didn’t know the difference between fish and Germans.”

But everyone was delighted, of course, that it had been a false alarm and the night we called out the guard for a shoal of fish would never be forgotten.

We could scarcely believe what was happening. Across that strip of water, which mercifully divided us from the scene of disaster, the Germans were occupying more than half of France, including all the ports; the army was demobilized, the fleet in enemy hands. The French, who had agreed not to make a separate peace, were now being required by the Germans not only to surrender, but to help them in the war against Britain.

All through the days we waited for fresh disasters.

We heard the Prime Minister express his grief and amazement that our onetime allies could have accepted such terms.

One evening there was a broadcast by General de Gaulle, who was in England and determined to free his country; his plan was to preserve the independence of France and help Britain in the war against Germany. Only an actual invasion could have made the situation worse.

I think we were all in a state of shock listening to the rallying call of our Prime Minister, which never failed to bring us out of our despondency and give hope—and a touch of excitement—to us all. He assured us that we would be ready. We would fight the enemy in any place on our island, wherever he dared to show his face. We would succeed—and somehow he made us believe that.

Gretchen came down. She had a great deal to tell us. There was a change in her. Edward was home and the immediate terror of imagined disaster was lifted. His wound had been slight and she admitted that she had wished it had not healed so quickly. Now he had rejoined his regiment and was ready to defend the country, but at least he would be here, on our own soil, and not in some foreign land.

She was very careful in what she said. I knew she was afraid to appear too happy at Edward’s return because she feared that would call attention to the fact that Jowan had not been one of those who came back. I could read her thoughts as I knew she did mine, and I could feel closer to her at that time than I could even to Dorabella.

One day Gretchen said to me: “What is the matter with that boy—I mean Charley, the one from London?”

“What do you mean, Gretchen? Gordon thinks he is rather bright.”

“He certainly seems very bright. I find him watching me. I suddenly look up and find his eyes on me, and he is giving me such a strange look. He turns away when he realizes I am looking at him and tries to pretend he was doing no such thing. Do you know, it’s a little upsetting.”

“Perhaps you are imagining it.”

“At first I thought so, but it happens all the time. I was just in the garden and looked up at a window. And I saw him there … watching. What can it mean? I thought perhaps you could find out.”

“I’ll try, but I can’t imagine what.”

“The young boy is doing it, too.”

“Bert?”

“The brother, yes. It is like some game. I can’t explain it. It’s creepy in a way.”

“I’ll see if I can find out what it’s all about.”

“I somehow feel they don’t like me.”

“Why should they not? They are just interested in everybody and everything here. It must be such a change for them. I think they have settled in rather well.”

Nothing would convince Gretchen that there was not something behind the boys’ behavior.

I decided the easiest way would be to try Bert, who might betray something more readily than his brother would.

I found him alone and said: “Bert, do you like Mrs. Denver?”

Bert opened his eyes wide, caught his breath, and put on an air of wariness.

“Well, Miss …” he began and stopped.

“What is it? What don’t you like about her? Why are you always watching her?”

“Well,” said Bert, “you’ve got to watch ’em, ain’t you?”

“Have you? Why?”

“Well, ’cos …”

“Because what?” I asked.

“Well, you know, Miss, we go to watch out for ’em every night, don’t we? Charley says …”

“Yes, what does Charley say?”

Bert wriggled a little.

“Charley says you’ve got to watch ’em. You never know what they’ll be up to.”

“What do you think Mrs. Denver will be ‘up to’?”

“Well, she’s one of ’em, ain’t she? She’s a German.”

I felt sick. I was reminded of that scene in the schloss when those violent young men had tried to break up the furniture.

I said: “Listen, Bert. Mrs. Denver is our friend. In a way she is related to me. She is good and kind and this war has nothing to do with her. She is on our side. She wants us to win this war. It is very important to her and her family that we do.”

“But we watch out for ’em, don’t we? And she’s one of them. Charley says we ought to watch her.”

“I must talk to Charley,” I said. “Will you bring him to me?”

Bert nodded and willingly ran off. Soon after he returned with his brother.

“Charley,” I said. “I want to talk to you about Mrs. Denver.”

Charley’s eyes narrowed and he looked wise.

“She’s on our side, Charley,” I said.

Charley looked disbelieving and gave me a look of mild contempt.

“I have to explain something to you,” I said. “It is true that Mrs. Denver is a German.” I went on: “But they are not all bad, you know. Moreover, she and her family have been treated very badly by them. Hitler is as much her enemy as ours—perhaps more so.” I tried to explain briefly and vividly what had happened at the schloss on that never-to-be-forgotten night, and I think I must have done so effectively. His eyes narrowed. He was a shrewd boy. He understood something about violence, I could see.

I finished: “You see, Charley, it is of as great importance to her as to us that we win this war.”

He nodded gravely and I knew that I had brought home my point.

It must have been a month after the incident of the phosphorescent fish, and Dorabella and I were on one of our seats in the garden watching the sea. A dark night, with a thin crescent moon, a midnight blue sky, and a smooth, almost silent sea.

The first fears of invasion no longer enveloped us. It is amazing how quickly one can become accustomed to disaster. Our spirits had been considerably lifted by the Prime Minister’s frequent broadcasts to the nation, and each passing week meant that we were more prepared. We were told that the nine divisions brought back from Dunkirk were now reinforced and at full strength. Here, in our country, there were forces from the Colonies, also Poles, Norwegians, Dutch, and French—the latter being built up by General de Gaulle. All over Britain men were rallying to the Local Defence Volunteers, and even in the last few weeks our position had improved considerably.

We were by no means lulled into security, but we were optimistic and we were certain that, when it came to conflict, we would stand firm and win.

“Do you realize,” Dorabella said to me, “it is nearly a year since all this started? It seems it has been going on forever.”

She smiled wistfully. She knew I was thinking of Jowan, as I always must be. Where was he? Should I ever see him again?

Then suddenly I noticed it. It was a faint light, not on the horizon, as we had seen with the fish, but much nearer to land.

“Do you see … ?” I began.

Dorabella was staring out to sea.

“Fish?” she said.

“Yes, perhaps it is …”

The light disappeared and then there was darkness.

“They are still laughing at us because of that night,” said Dorabella. “Only the other day … oh, look, there it is again!”

It was there and then gone. There was darkness and no sound but the gentle swishing of the waves on the beach below.

Dorabella yawned.

“Well,” she said, “we learned our lesson. No more raising the alarm for a shoal of fish.”

“They all enjoyed it and the locals were glad to have a laugh at our expense.”

“There’s something in that. Anything that can make people laugh these days can’t be all bad.”

“Gretchen is happier now.”

“It must be wonderful for her. I wish …”

She stopped, and I said: “I know. I’ve just got to go on hoping.”

“There’ll be some news soon. I feel it in my bones. I’ve got some very reliable bones.”

She was trying to cheer me. I wondered if she really believed that Jowan would come back safely.

Then I was back again, thinking of those places where we had met, going over what had been said between us, how we had gradually become aware of our feelings for each other. I remembered how unhappy I had been when I thought Dorabella was dead, and how he had comforted me and how different I had been then. Experiences change people, force them into maturity. How young I must have been before that visit to Germany!