‘Sing the last verse with me,’ Martin says, nodding towards Colin’s other hand, which William scoops up.

‘He was in London,’ William says after a few moments of silence. ‘He watched his daughter come out of school.’

Martin exhales. ‘Poor thing. At least he got back for the “Miserere”.’

The room smells of soap, shaving cream and antiseptic. It’s dark outside. William stares at Colin’s neat crescent thumbnail. ‘If I’d had my wits about me, I could have grabbed him. Saved him.’

Martin shakes his head. ‘Try not to waste any time on that, William. You did more for Colin than anyone.’ He smiles gently.

The second hand on the wall clock clunks its way through another minute.

‘We’ll miss him, won’t we?’ William swallows. ‘All of us, I mean, the whole choir.’

‘Yep.’ Martin nods. We’ll have to sing something special next week. To remember him.’

Neither of them speak for a while. Colin snatches at breath, making them jump, but then seems to settle, his mouth hanging a little open.

‘How was it then?’ Martin’s voice is barely a whisper. ‘Being back there.’

‘Horrendous,’ William answers, ‘it was the first time I actually let myself remember the whole thing. God! It was awful.’

‘I’ve always wanted to tell you,’ Martin says, ‘I was hoping Phillip would let you back in after you missed the first one. It’s bothered me that you might have thought I stole it from you.’

‘I never thought that. Imagine if you hadn’t! What would have happened then?’

‘We’ll never know.’

‘I’ve been so ashamed, Martin, for so long. The most spectacular balls-up in the history of the choir.’

Colin gulps for air again. They watch him for a few moments until he’s quiet once more.

‘It’s not how I remember you,’ Martin says. ‘And I bet you anything it’s not how Phillip remembers you. If you were the worst, you were the best too. Stunning. Absolutely stunning. However’ – Martin sits up a little straighter and looks William full in the face, a hint of mischief in his eyes, a twitch at the corner of his mouth – ‘there’s no denying, it was the most delicious moment of high drama, you ripping down the aisle like a bat out of hell.’ He smirks. ‘You should have seen Phillip’s face! He didn’t move a muscle, just stared after you!’ Martin lets out a giggle. ‘I thought I was going to have to conduct the choir, as well as sing the solos.’

Martin puts his head back and laughs. William recognises this moment for what it is, sees the chance, and decides to take it. After thirteen years of wrestling it down, William allows the whole messy bundle of suppressed memory to surface. And like a miracle, laughter bubbles up with it.