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done wrong.
    â€˜I’m Captain Michaelson,’ he said. He shook hands with the men first, the army nurse and finally with her.
    â€˜I’m Flight Officer Fitz –’ she started, hoping to please, and smiling in her most friendly way.
    â€˜I know who you are,’ he snapped. ‘There’s a bus picking us up. It should be here by now.’ It rounded the corner and pulled up. ‘Get in please,’ he said. He followed last and sat in the front beside the army driver. The girl had slipped on to the bench seat beside Kate.
    â€˜Charming manners,’ she whispered. ‘I’m Judy. No last names.’
    â€˜Thanks for telling me,’ Kate murmured. ‘Nobody else did. I’m Kate. I’d love a cigarette. Do you want one?’
    â€˜Thanks. What a journey! Did you sleep?’
    â€˜On and off; more off than on. It’s going to be pretty cold up here.’
    â€˜Don’t you know Scotland?’ She had a pleasant voice, with a trace of accent.
    â€˜No,’ Kate answered. ‘We live in Surrey. There’s going to be a storm.’
    â€˜It’ll pass,’ the girl called Judy said. ‘You get sudden squalls of rain and wind, then they blow over and it can be beautiful.’
    There was a tap on Kate’s shoulder and she looked round. Three rings on the sleeve; the Squadron Leader had a very strong accent.
    â€˜I should put those out,’ he said quietly. He nodded towards the silent figure up in the front. ‘He doesn’t like to smoke when travelling.’
    â€˜Thanks,’ Kate whispered. What pale eyes, she noticed. A French face, under the British cap. Fine-featured, an aquiline nose; a narrow-lipped mouth that was smiling at her. And the ice-grey eyes with flecks of green in them.
    â€˜Did he come up on the train?’ she asked.
    â€˜Probably.’ He shrugged.
    â€˜Do you know him?’ she asked again.
    â€˜Only by reputation,’ he whispered back. ‘I’m Philippe.’
    â€˜Judy.’
    â€˜Kate.’
    Both girls trod out their cigarettes under their seats. From his position by the driver, Captain Michaelson saw them do it in the driving mirror. He heard a subdued giggle. Christ, how he hated dealing with the women. The tough, butch types were different, but when it came to girls like these two.… He had bitten the head off the youngest one. All bright smiles and puppy friendliness at the station. Giving her rank and real name. And the preliminary Selection Panel had passed her. Easy for them. Not looking beyond the eager candidate, intent on giving the right answers to their loaded questions. He couldn’t get Lisette out of his mind, that was the trouble. He kept seeing her in every woman.
    He realized that he had clenched his hands to stop them shaking. It took the best part of two hours before they reached the Loch and the darkness was not even lit by a star. A biting wind tore at them as they stepped out of the bus; Kate shivered, glanced round quickly and heaved her bag up. The mass of the house loomed up at them, blacker than the sky. Inside the transformation was dramatic. Lights, a big fire burning in the hallway, a fine carved stair that led out of the hall. A group of people standing by the fire, in khaki and air-force blue, looking at the new arrivals. All men, Kate noticed. The dour young officer who’d travelled with them directed them up the stairs.
    â€˜I’ll show you your rooms; have a clean up and come down in fifteen minutes. We’ll have a drink and I’ll introduce you to the others. We have dinner at eight thirty tonight. Make yourselves at home.’
    Kate’s room was next to the girl called Judy. It was pleasantly warm. Shabby, but with a comfortable bed and a good light to read by. Plain, solid Victorian furniture, and rubbed chintz. A large coloured print of a child holding two kittens faced the bed. Years ago, she thought, this was a