Martin puts his arm across the back of the sofa and looks at William for a moment. ‘We’ve never talked about it, have we? Your “Miserere”.’

‘No,’ William says from the other end of the long settee, ‘and I’m grateful that you haven’t tried.’

Martin frowns. ‘But you loved that piece of music. Why deprive yourself because of one unfortunate incident over half your life ago?’

William stares at Martin, teeth sinking into the soft sides of his mouth.

‘The music is still the music, it’s bigger than one choirboy’s cock-up. It’s bigger and better than that’ – he takes a drink of tea – ‘and so should you be.’

‘Back off, Martin.’ William’s on his feet, a mug in his hand that needs to be flung against something. ‘You think you know everything about me, but you don’t know how it feels. That’s what I can’t cope with. How it feels!’

Martin stands too, less than a foot away from him, and gently takes the mug from his hand.

‘Well, ponder this, Mr Damaged,’ he says softly, ‘you don’t know how I felt when I kissed you. Trust me, you have no idea. Or when you let the other boys think I’d molested you. If I’d let those things be more important than the people involved, I wouldn’t have talked to you when I saw you outside college with Gloria, and I certainly wouldn’t have let you come and live with me.’

It’s true, of course. Every word Martin says is true. What if he’d chosen differently? What if all that had happened could have made him a bigger person? If each disaster had been a crossroads at which he could have taken a better path? It’s too painful to dwell on.

‘I’m not coming.’ William puts his hands in his pockets. ‘I’ve sung with you, I’ve listened to music I swore I’d never listen to again, but I’m not going back to that chapel to hear that piece of music.’

‘The men will be disappointed,’ Martin calls after him as he leaves the room.

‘I’m sure they’ll get over it,’ William calls back. ‘Goodnight.’

He gets changed, washes briefly in the bathroom, then walks over to the small mantelpiece over the blocked-up fireplace and picks up the small rectangle of thick white card with wavy gold edging.

Evelyn and Frank invite you to their wedding

All Saints’ Church, Mumbles

Saturday 4th May at 2 p.m.

And afterwards at the Langland Court Hotel.

(Apologies for short notice, we decided life’s too short to waste any chance of happiness)

At the bottom, in the familiar italic script he was so skilled at forging, she has written, Time to move on? It would mean the world to me if you came.

▪ ▪ ▪

The severed arm is warm and wet in his hands.