She softens, more like the woman he knew by lamplight in the empty confines of his local. Her deep eyes are still gaunt and hard, exposed by the tightness of her wrenched-back hair, but her shoulders fall. The tiny mole to the left of her lips makes her mouth look like it’s pouting when she’s really not. She snatches a glance behind her.

‘So what do you want?’ she says, less accusing even though her hands are on her hips. She peers at Geoff like he’s a foreigner.

‘I need to get home. To my parents. They—’

He can’t say it. Instead, he toes crumbling earth. Parks sighs, breath whistling in time with the low wind.

‘Look. We’re getting concessionary passes,’ she says. ‘For when we’re done. Two a man. I don’t need them, so …’

Parks looks at the civilians. She’d told him that night, about the lights out at eight, the shared bedroom and unfeeling care-home staff. The waiting for adoptive parents that never arrived. Geoff floods with elation. He barely stops himself from hugging her.

‘Thank you. That’s—’

‘Go home. Stay there. I’ll come round at twenty-three hundred hours.’

She pivots, going back to the desk. Geoff tries not to stare at her rear, the twin curves easily visible beneath her loose fatigues. He moves away.

A woman he’s never seen before leans face-forward against his block wall, arms covering her head, body trembling and bent. A limp hoodie falls halfway down her back. He sees the peach strap of her vest, the black bra strap beneath. Her skin’s pale, her deltoids ridged, although small. She’s a sorrowful void against rough walls.

He can’t very well ignore her, not after Parks’s kindness. Geoff trots down the incline onto the path, standing beside her for a series of useless moments.

‘Hello?’ he says after some time, one hand raised above her shoulder. ‘Hello?’

She ignores him. Behind her, former Londoners trail onto the white bus, heads turned to watch. Geoff eyes the soldiers. They’re busy filing people through the open gate.

‘You’ll miss the bus. You need to get to the displacement centre or you won’t be rehoused.’

The woman sobs louder. She’s tall and skinny, her hair masculine short. She wears tight jeans and that thin hoodie. She must be cold.

‘Look, do you want a cup of tea? I might be able to help. I know a way to get back into the city.’

She doesn’t react for some time and he’s about to give up when she lifts her head. Her eyes are tower-block grey, saturated by red. Her nose runs in delicate strings. She doesn’t seem to care. She hiccups, stares.

‘Come. Let me get you inside, I’ll explain there.’

Geoff sweeps an open arm towards the path. When he leads, the woman follows.