Danny’s shrug made him wince. ‘Mum says we can’t afford to go such a long way,’ he mumbled. His gaze fell on his slouch hat which was sitting between them on the cave floor, and his expression lightened. ‘That’s the same insignia as my dad’s,’ he said. ‘You were in the 8th Division, weren’t you? Did you go to Malaya too?’

He realised this was a loaded question which must be answered carefully, and as truthfully as possible. ‘A lot of men went to Malaya,’ he hedged, ‘but I wasn’t there very long. Spent most of my war in Burma and Thailand.’

‘What’s the jungle like? Is it really hot, and are there monkeys and things? Was it exciting?’

The pain in his gut was like a grinding fist, but he didn’t want Danny to see him taking pills, so he put down the cup and reached for the tin of tobacco and his rolling papers. ‘War isn’t an adventure, Danny – it’s cruel and bloody and terrifying. The jungle is a dangerous, hot, nasty place with swamps full of leeches, and spiders that can kill you within minutes. The Nips come at you without any warning, bomb your camps, set up mantraps and shoot anything that moves. I saw a lot of good men die in Malaya.’

Danny dipped his chin, the tea forgotten. ‘My dad was working in the field hospital at a place called Melaka when it was attacked. Mum showed me the letter from his commanding officer, but with so many bodies, how could he be so certain it was my dad that died?’

‘We all wore identification tags,’ he said softly. ‘There would have been no mistake if he’d been on base.’

Danny blinked away his tears. ‘But what if they were mistaken? What if Dad had been taken prisoner and no one knew where he was? What if he’d come home and lost his memory – and was trying to find me?’

He reached out and gathered the boy to his side. ‘Is that why you thought I was him when I found you under that rock?’ he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

Danny nodded. ‘I really wanted it to be him, and you looked just like him at first.’ He lifted his chin and appraised him. ‘You’ve got brown eyes, but your face is a different shape and all lined and wrinkled – and your hair is much lighter and thinner than Dad’s. In fact, you look much too old to be my dad.’

He didn’t dare show how deeply the boy’s innocent evaluation had hurt him, so he gave him a hug and then eased him away. ‘Drink your tea before it gets cold,’ he said. ‘It’ll be light soon and time to take you home. Your ma will be worried sick.’