When they reached the park, they left the car near the main gates, but instead of going inside, walked down the road to the public playing fields where Miller released Fritz. The Airedale bounded away and the boys ran after him, shouting and laughing.

Miller followed at his own pace, hands in pockets. The morning was cold and grey and yet the wind was bracing and he felt alive again for the first time in weeks.

The boys had reached the line of iron railings that marked the boundary of the park. Suddenly Roger gave a cry that was echoed by Tommy and they disappeared over the skyline.

Miller hurried after them and when he squeezed through a gap in the fence and looked down into the sports arena, a man in a black track suit was running round the grass track, Fritz in hot pursuit. Roger and Tommy were hopping about in the centre calling ineffectually.

By the time Miller reached the bottom of the hill the runner had secured a grip on Fritz’s collar and was leading him to the boys. They stood together in a little group and Miller heard a burst of laughter.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said as he approached.

The man in the track suit turned and grinned. ‘Surprise, surprise.’ It was Duncan Craig.

‘You’re right, it is,’ Miller said. ‘You’re up early.’

‘The best part of the day. Besides I like to keep fit.’ He ruffled Roger’s hair. ‘These two imps yours?’

‘My nephews,’ Miller said. ‘For my sins. Roger and Tommy. Boys, this is Colonel Craig.’

They were enormously impressed. ‘Were you in the war?’ Roger demanded.

Craig grinned. ‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Commandos?’

‘Nothing so romantic.’

They looked disappointed and Miller snapped the lead to Fritz’s collar. ‘Don’t you believe him. Colonel Craig was something a whole lot more romantic than any commando.’

Craig glanced sharply at him. ‘Been doing a little research, Sergeant?’

‘You could say that.’ Miller brought Fritz to heel and nodded to the boys. ‘We’d better be getting back.’

They turned and ran across the arena and Miller nodded to Craig. ‘I’ll be seeing you.’

‘I’m sure you will.’

When he reached the top of the hill, the boys were waiting for him and Miller paused to catch his breath. Below, Craig was already half-way round the track.

‘I say, Uncle Nick,’ Roger said, ‘he certainly likes running, doesn’t he?’

‘I suppose he does,’ Miller said, a slight frown on his face, and then he smiled. ‘I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving. Come on, I’ll race you to the car.’

Their excited laughter mingled with the dog’s barking died into the distance and below in the silent arena, Duncan Craig started on his second circuit, running strongly.