In July, after a few complications, George had finally been discharged from hospital. He’d enjoyed his visits from Sarah. He hadn’t been so keen on Roger turning up with her on most occasions, but if there was something going on between them, they’d kept it to themselves.

July turned to August and after three weeks of being stuck at home he was ready to return to work on his stall. Sarah hadn’t been to see him since he’d left the hospital, and whenever he mentioned her, his mum seemed to steer away from her name.

‘Are you looking forward to going back to work today?’ his mother asked.

‘Yes, can’t wait.’

‘Just take it easy. Don’t go putting a strain on yourself.’

‘Mum, stop fussing. You’ve done a grand job of looking after me and I ain’t going to ruin all your hard work by doing myself a mischief on my first day back.’

Lena seemed satisfied with his answer and went upstairs to get dressed, while George drained the last of his glass of milk. Sarah had never said what she’d wanted to talk to him about, but as she hadn’t been round it couldn’t have been important. She’d probably have forgotten by now. Still, he’d bring it up the next time he saw her and hoped it would be soon.

By the time George arrived at the market, the sun was up and most of the costermongers were set up for the day. He thought it was best to check his stall before unloading his van, and as he walked into the market he heard a whisper go from one stall to another. Then there was a loud cheer, and he heard shouts of ‘Welcome back, George’ and ‘Good to have you back, mate’.

George was taken aback by the display, but pleased to be made to feel so popular. They were a good bunch, and he felt sure that none of them had been the one to have sold Sarah out to Godfrey.

He walked to his stall to the sound of applause, and was moved to see it’d been decorated with bunting and a large sign, hand-drawn in large capitals, which read: GEORGE NEERLY. NEERLY DEAD. NEERLY A HERO.

He turned to his fellow stallholders and did a bow, saying loudly, ‘Thanks, it’s good to be back.’

Roger was clapping, but George thought his friend looked a bit dubious and was avoiding eye contact with him. ‘All right, mate?’ he called as the costermongers dispersed back to their stalls.

‘Yeah, all good,’ Roger answered, then busied himself with some cabbages.

George walked over. ‘I thought you might have popped in after work one day to say hello.’

‘Sorry, George, I’ve been so busy. It’s great to see you fighting fit again though,’ Roger said, patting George’s arm.