‘No,’ he has to admit, ‘but I felt awkward singing it with them.’

‘Just because they’ve lost everything, doesn’t mean they’ve stopped being human. I’m guessing most of them have probably been in love. Most of them have probably thought at some point, the world was a good place. The way I see it, singing about it keeps them in touch with who they were, are, could be. I don’t know, William, but when they really connect with the song, with the lyrics and music, it feels like it’s doing good, not harm. I’m damned if I’m going to look for songs that aren’t about love and life and loss and pain and joy. This is being human.’ He briefly raises both arms into the air. ‘I treat them like humans.’

William reaches across and pats Martin’s back.

‘Anyway, never mind them, did you enjoy it?’ Martin says, twisting his body briefly towards William as they turn right to cross Parker’s Piece.

‘Yes.’ William smiles. ‘Actually, I really did.’

‘What did you enjoy most?’

‘Just singing.’ He’s still grinning.

‘Nothing like it, is there?’ Martin talks to the pavement.

‘Seems not.’ He laughs, and Martin puts his arm round his shoulders and pulls him briefly towards him. ‘You’re great with them, Martin, really great.’

‘Doing what you love brings out the best in you.’

‘So, David doesn’t sing, but comes every week?’

‘Never misses. We sang in a service last Christmas and he stood there in the second row giving the congregation the evil eye, didn’t open his mouth once.’ Martin laughs.

As they walk the diagonal path, cyclists shoot by. William finds himself keeping to the very edge of the path, while Martin wanders to and fro.

‘I had a chat with Colin.’ William wants Martin to know he made an effort.

‘You got him on a good day. His wife left him when he wouldn’t get help for the booze. She hooked up with some high flyer and last year moved their two kids to London. It kills him. Big house, private schools. He’s not allowed to even see them.’

‘Ouch,’ says William.

‘Some days, he looks ready to kill.’

‘The room must be full of stories like that.’

‘Yep, but for an hour and a half, they can leave that at the door and have a good sing. They might have lost everything, but no one can take their voices.’

‘Who’s Jenny?’

‘Member of the church. She organises the rota for people to provide the refreshments and sandwiches. Quiet saints, the lot of them.’

Once they reach the cast iron lamppost in the middle of the common, William turns to Martin. ‘You’re disgusted with me for leaving Gloria, aren’t you?’

‘Not disgusted.’ Martin looks straight ahead. ‘It just seems such an unnecessary mess, William. You’re surrounded by people who love you. Surrounded.’