‘You could have told me, Gwen,’ he says at last. ‘You could have told me this was all a ruse.’ She has the decency to appear embarrassed, and he is struck by how young she looks – how young she is. It is so easy to forget her youth when she is labouring beside him, as sturdy and competent as any man. But all dressed up, her hair prettily curled, her cheeks flushed, she looks little more than a girl, a girl who hasn’t yet experienced enough of life for it to curb her optimism or tarnish her innocence. For a second, Jenny flashes before him and he is forced to look away, the pain in his chest so sudden and so penetrating that it takes his breath away. ‘I promised your father I’d bring you home.’

‘Oh, please, Jack!’ She swivels to face him, her knees catching his leg. ‘Gordon will take me straight home, I promise. And Dad need never know. He’ll be fast asleep snoring his head off by now …’

‘I gave him my word, Gwen.’

‘And I’m asking you to help me … please, Jack, help me.’ Her hand rests lightly on his arm. ‘Just this once? I should have told you, you’re right, and I’m sorry I didn’t, that wasn’t fair, but I was so worried Dad would find out and stop me from coming. I promise, no harm will come of it. And we’re friends, aren’t we, Jack? Don’t friends help each other out?’

They are forced to shuffle aside as a drunken couple stagger out through the open doorway. The girl is giggling, collapsed against her partner whose arm is wrapped around her narrow waist. He casts Jack a knowing look as they stumble down the steps and onto the gravel. He leads her towards one of the parked cars and she slumps against the side as he opens the passenger door. Their murmurous interchange as he helps her in is too low to decipher. The door slams and he is whistling as he scoots around the back of the car, his hand skimming the boot, before he climbs into the front and starts the engine. As the car passes them, the woman slides across the front seat and nestles into his shoulder.

Jack looks up at the dark sky pinpricked with light. He believes he has seen more stars in the last few weeks than he has seen in his entire life, for here their beauty is unobscured by murky Tyneside smog. The whine of the car’s engine fades into the night.

‘Jack?’