Elizabeth thought that was a good idea. She was just about to say so when Marlene exclaimed, “Look at that parachute! All that lovely silk going to waste.”

Rita’s voice rose sharply from behind her. “Silk? That’s real silk?”

“Too right it is.” Marlene took a step forward. “That would make a lovely wedding dress.”

“And petticoats,” Rita murmured.

“Blouses!” someone else cried.

“Nightdresses!”

“Sheets!”

“Here, it was my idea!” Marlene darted toward the pilot, apparently intent on gathering up the parachute. Just as intent on getting their share, a dozen or more women raced behind her. The German pilot shrieked once then disappeared from view as the women scrambled around him.

“Wait!” Elizabeth called out. “Wait until George gets here. Someone could get hurt.”

Her pleas went unnoticed as more women joined the throng, all squabbling and tearing at the silky folds of the parachute. Elizabeth looked down the hill and saw George pedaling his bike furiously up the slope toward her. Help was on the way.

It took the combined efforts of herself and the two men in the crowd to separate the women and restore order. When it was over there was nothing left of the parachute except a few tangled ropes. Unfortunately, there was no sign of the German pilot either. Apparently he had taken advantage of the confusion and made good his escape.

“Goodness!” Violet exclaimed after listening to Elizabeth’s breathless account of the incident. “I heard on the radio that German planes fly over now and then, but I never thought I’d see one land in Sitting Marsh.”

“It didn’t exactly land,” Elizabeth said. Seated at the ancient table in the kitchen of the Manor House, she took comfort in the cup of tea Violet had poured for her. Her hands still shook from all the excitement as she replaced her cup in its saucer. “It was more of a crash landing, and I think it blew up on the beach.”