‘Shhhh!’ Martin puts his hands over his ears and shuts his eyes. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘OK.’ William lightly touches his arm. ‘I won’t.’ After a moment’s silence, William decides to carry on as if that last bit hadn’t happened. ‘I told her it was OK, but it’s not. I’ll always wish that they could have been there and however much they want to, they’ll never go against Mum’s wishes.’

‘No, she’d have to invite them herself,’ Martin says simply. ‘Come on’ – he stands up – ‘we should go.’

The idea lands and pierces like an arrow. ‘You’re a genius!’ William says, running to catch Martin up on the staircase. ‘I write to them pretending I’m her. She apologises and says she wants them both to come!’ They stand outside the dorm, across the threshold from pre-supper mayhem.

Martin’s scowling. ‘Last time we tried this trick it didn’t go too well.’

‘We were stupid ten-year-olds,’ William says. ‘I’m leaving here soon. This solo is what it’s all been about for me. I’ve got a tiny family. I want them there!’ He pauses. ‘So would Dad.’

‘And what then? Your mum gives them a big hug as we process in?’

‘I don’t care. I just want them to hear me sing. Whatever happens after can take care of itself. Anyway, it’ll be rammed. They might not even see each other until it’s over.’

‘But don’t they live in the same street? Your plan only works if they don’t see each other between now and next Wednesday.’

‘They won’t! Mum’s going to Swansea for two weeks – I think we’re moving there in the summer, by the way – she’s coming straight from there.’

Martin studies William’s face. ‘What about the postmark?’

The solution comes easily: ‘I’ll send a postcard from here – I’ve got one in my locker – I’ll say she’s just said goodbye to me on our last exeat and knows I would want them both there, so she wrote the card while she was still in Cambridge.’

‘It’s risky.’

‘Since when have you not liked risky?’

Martin smiles a little, shrugs his shoulders. ‘Fair comment.’