‘Down from the wagons, if you please, ladies.’
Claire looked down and saw a British Army captain reaching up a hand. The man was old for a subaltern – in his mid-forties by the look of him – and Claire wondered if he had been promoted 90from the ranks. He was hatless and his thinning black hair was stuck to his reddened scaly scalp with pomade. He was smiling, but the grin reminded Claire of a hyena waiting for its turn at a kill.
‘I can manage myself, thank you,’ Claire said, ignoring the man’s gesture.
The captain grabbed hold of Gerda’s arm as she clambered down from the wagon, but she shook his hand off.
‘Now, now, ladies. No need to be so obstreperous,’ he said. ‘I’m Captain Davies, the second-in-command of the camp.’
A grey-haired woman in a patched and stained pale-blue dress b
