She leaned forward again and swiped the washrag around the pedestal of the toilet bowl. One day, she promised herself fiercely, she’d be living like a lady, too, with a secretary and a housekeeper and a butler to open the door. Only her butler would have a lot more gumption than wheezy old Martin, she’d make sure of that.

The sound of male laughter drifted down the hallway, freezing her hand. Yanks. So far she hadn’t seen so much as a glimpse of Sam since he’d moved in with the others a week ago.

She’d been shocked to find out he was one of the officers billeted at the manor. Marlene had warned her that once Sam found out how she’d been lying to him, he’d never speak to her again. Marlene thought she knew everything, just because she was her older sister. Well, Polly told herself as she quickly gathered up her mop and bucket, Sam wasn’t going to find out she’d been lying. She’d managed to keep out of sight of the Yanks for a week now, and she’d go on doing it as long as she had a chance with the most gorgeous man she’d ever set eyes on. And like she told Marlene, she’d keep on lying to him until he was so madly in love with her he wouldn’t care when she finally told him the truth.

The voices drew closer, and before the men could round the corner she slipped out of the bathroom and through the door that led to the back stairs.

Elizabeth stared at Violet in disbelief. “That young boy killed someone? Are you sure?”

Violet shrugged. “That’s what Marlene said. He cut her head wide open, Marlene said. Told me to warn Polly not to ride her bike home past the woods tonight.”

“I can’t believe it. He seemed so harmless.”

“He wasn’t bloody harmless when he was dropping them bombs over London, now was he?”