‘Well, bless your gentle soul,’ Martin murmurs, as the door opens and a loud crowd of male students amble in. They sit in silence for a moment.

‘What about you, Martin?’ Gloria says. ‘Have you got someone special? It can’t be easy working with those blokes.’

‘Not at the moment,’ he says with a gentle smile.

‘Well, that’s a crying shame’ – Gloria stands suddenly – ‘cos I think you’re lovely!’ She looks around. ‘Where’s the loo?’ Martin points behind her. ‘I’ll get another round on my way back. Same again?’ They both nod and watch her walk away.

‘How are your brothers?’ William asks. ‘And the twins?’

‘Yep, all good.’ Martin finishes his beer. ‘Richard’s a banker in Kemsing, Edward’s a headmaster at a boarding school near Brighton, and the twins live in Worthing. All married with sprogs. Seven nieces, three nephews.’

William stares at his glass, then looks up. ‘Martin, I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your letters.’

Martin shrugs. ‘Forget it. I’m sure I waffled on terribly.’

‘I didn’t even read them.’ He holds Martin’s eye. ‘Couldn’t bear to.’

‘Fair enough.’ Martin winces briefly.

‘It wasn’t. I couldn’t read your letters because I felt so guilty.’ William glances quickly at Martin, then looks down again. ‘I missed you so much.’

‘If you’d bloody well read my letters, you’d know that was mutual.’ Martin’s beefy hand slaps down briefly on William’s.

William shakes his head. ‘You’re better off without me.’ Suddenly, William is worried he’s going to cry. He doesn’t want Gloria to come back and find him in bits. She was finally having a good time.

Martin shunts forward in his chair. ‘William, I choose to spend my time with men who’ve lost everything. They’re not exactly straightforward, but they’re far more interesting for it. They’re real.’

William notices Gloria at the bar chatting to the barman, who’s laughing at something she’s said.

‘OK.’ William looks back at Martin. ‘Consider us found.’

Gloria returns with a tray. ‘Everything all right?’ she says.

‘Thank you, Gloria.’ Martin lifts the drinks to the table, passing William’s to him. ‘Wouldn’t have had you down as a whisky drinker.’

‘What would you have had me down as?’

Martin considers. ‘I seem to remember you having a penchant for ginger beer, but then you were only ten.’ Martin and Gloria laugh, filling the pub and William’s heart.

‘Come on then, Martin.’ Gloria rubs her hands. ‘Spill the beans, tell me about my beloved when he was a choirboy.’

‘Well, Gloria’ – Martin drops his voice – ‘how long have you got?’