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wasn’t difficult.’

‘Don’t be so modest. Are you as proficient in German?’

‘No. I’d never be able to convince a German national that I was German, because of the grammar, but I’d be able to understand everything he or she said. The German language is easy to learn, but the grammar is difficult. If you don’t get the sentence structure right, a German would know you weren’t a citizen immediately.’ Captain Mitchell nodded that he understood. ‘What about your father? Is he Canadian?’

No, my father’s parents are Scort’ish, from Glassgee.’

Claire laughed. ‘Your French accent is better than your Scottish, sir.’

‘Mitch.’

‘Mitch. It feels odd calling you by your nickname, with you being a captain.’

‘Until we get to Hampshire, I’m just plain old Mitch.’

Not plain, or old, Claire thought. Now he wasn’t barking orders his voice sounded rich and smooth and his eyes were a soft blue-grey, not slate as she had first thought. She felt her cheeks redden and she looked out of the window at the River Thames. They were crossing Hammersmith Bridge.

‘Excuse me, sir?’ the driver said, some time later. ‘We’re almost at the halfway point. Would you like to stretch your legs?’

‘Good idea, Tim. Pull over at the next pub, will you? Claire, would you like a cup of tea or coffee, use the ladies’ bathroom, perhaps?’

‘I’d love a cup of tea.’

‘The Highwayman, sir,’ Tim said, pulling up outside an old roadside inn. He jumped out of the driver’s seat and opened Claire’s door while Mitch let himself out. ‘They do a good pint of mild, sir, if you don’t fancy coffee.’ With a wry smile, Tim closed Claire’s door.

‘Sounds good. You’re welcome to join us, Tim.’

‘Thank you, sir, but my mate is the chef here. I thought I’d go round to the kitchen and see him. I’ll be back at the car before you’re ready to leave.’

‘Okay.’ Mitch opened the door of the Highwayman for Claire to enter and followed her in. ‘Wow!’ He ducked, missing the carved lintel above the door by half an inch. ‘I guess your British highwaymen weren’t very tall.’ In the porch of the old inn, Mitch’s eyes widened in surprise at the uneven walls and low knotty wooden beams. ‘So this is what they call oldie worldie, huh?’

‘It is. My dad and brother’s local, in the village near to where we live, has beams like this – although they’re not as low and the pub isn’t as smart.’ Admiring the heavy oak furniture, Claire made her way to a table by the window overlooking a stream. ‘Shall we sit here?’

‘Sure. I’ll get the drinks. What would you like?’ Mitch asked, already on his way to the bar.

‘Just tea, please.’

When he returned it was with a pint of dark beer. The waitress followed with the tea and two menus, giving one to Claire and leaving one on the table for Mitch. ‘I thought you might like something to eat.’ Looking at his menu, Mitch took a long drink of his beer. ‘I like the sound of the ploughman’s lunch. How about you?’

‘It looks good. I’d like it too.’

Mitch looked over to the bar where the waitress stood talking to the barmaid. He put his hand up and the waitress came at once. ‘Two ploughman’s lunches, and could we get some meat with them?’

‘We have ham on the menu, sir. I’m sure chef will add a couple of slices to your lunch.’

‘Thank you, miss. Ham on the side for two,’ Mitch said.

Claire looked out of the window at the small stream. It was so clear she could see the pebbles on the riverbed. ‘I was surprised when Miss Halliday said a car was picking me up. It isn’t usual for military personnel of my rank to be driven. We usually do the driving.’

‘I guess it isn’t. I don’t always go down by car, because of the petrol. I jump on a train, but Tim had to go down to pick up some of the top brass and take them back to London, so I bummed a ride. And as I live round the corner from you on Portman Square, I mentioned to Vera Halliday that we had worked together at Coltishall, and suggested I offered you a lift.’ Mitch smiled. ‘I thought it might make up for pushing you so hard during your training.’

‘It has, I assure you.’

They ate in relative silence and when they had finished, Mitch went to the bar to pay the bill and Claire went to the ladies’. When she arrived at the car, Tim was sitting in the driver’s seat reading the newspaper. As soon as he saw Claire he folded the paper, dropped it on the passenger seat and put on his cap. ‘Nice lunch?’ he asked, jumping out and opening Claire’s door.

She nodded. ‘Lovely, thank you. Did you have anything to eat?’

Tim raised his eyebrows. ‘Fresh bread – still warm, it was – and a couple of thick slices of ham,’ he whispered conspiratorially.

Mitch came out of the pub and jumped into the car. Okay, let’s go! Next stop the school.’ He took a handful of folders from his briefcase and for the next hour read a variety of documents and a couple of letters. When he had finished reading he sat back in his seat and looked out of the window. ‘We’re getting close, Tim, aren’t we?’

‘Yes, sir, another ten minutes.’

From the second she got in the car Claire had been itching to ask Mitch about the training. She’d been with him for three hours and hadn’t mentioned it. If she didn’t ask him now, it would be too late. ‘Can I ask you about the intelligence training, Mitch?’

‘You can ask,’ he said, his eyes sparkling, ‘but I can’t tell you.’

‘I understand,’ Claire said, wishing she hadn’t said anything. As the car pulled

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