A bell rang, the jingle making its way down the stairs to where Emma stood. She was forced to ignore it. Gathered in the hall with the servants – butler, chauffeur, cook and maid – she was awaiting her turn to receive a national identity card, stamped and her responsibility to keep safe for the duration of the war. The mood was grave and laced with apprehension. The woman seated at the console table wrote with much care. Mrs Davies, the secretary, watched on. The bell rang again, a trifle more impatiently. Emma waited.
The housemaid received her card and returned to her duties. Emma watched the woman inscribe the chauffeur’s details onto his card. With every word, her heart beat a little faster. Her palms felt warm. When Mr Webster walked away, card in hand, she strove to maintain her com
