O’Keefe looked up as Jim’s shadow fell over him, and he struggled to his feet to return Jim’s salute.

‘I’m sorry to disturb your reading, Major,’ said Jim. ‘You were clearly deeply into it.’

O’Keefe shrugged and carefully placed the book on the bed. ‘’Tis no matter, Lieutenant. I’ll easily get back into it.’ He pulled out a camp chair. ‘Will ye be after sitting? I find I can’t stand for too long now.’

‘Thank you.’ Jim settled in the chair and smiled as the other man sat opposite him. ‘You sound just like my father,’ he said. ‘What part of Ireland do you come from?’

‘Cork,’ he replied without returning Jim’s smile. ‘Though I’ve not been back there in a long while.’ He cocked his head. ‘And yourself, Lieutenant?’

‘From a seaside town on the south coast of England. My father went there with his parents and sister from County Clare.’

‘And what is it you’ll be wanting from me, Lieutenant Reilly?’ he asked quietly, glancing at the briefcase before steadily meeting Jim’s gaze.

Jim explained, and then surreptitiously drew out his notebook to sit quietly and give the man time to think and decide how to answer, for he guessed he was not one to be hurried, and if he did decide to give a statement, it would be concise and insightful.

‘Well now, if it will help you find those men, I will tell you what I know.’ O’Keefe held Jim’s gaze. ‘’Tis not a pretty tale, and it’s painful to recall it, but I will do my best. Where would you like me to begin?’

‘Where were you first taken prisoner?’

‘Here, on the island,’ he replied. ‘I was captured after a skirmish with the invading Japs and thrown into Changi with most of my men.’

He looked off into the distance as he remembered that time and worried the thin, jagged scar on his temple with his fingers. ‘There were thousands of us crammed in there alongside Australians, Canadians, New Zealanders and Americans. There were a lot of men from the local volunteer force – part-time soldiers made up from planters, bank clerks and retired military men.’

Jim’s pulse quickened. ‘Did you happen to hear the names of any of those volunteers?’

O’Keefe frowned, clearly annoyed at having his line of thought broken. ‘Aye, one or two, but they were mostly kept apart from us – in the beginning.’

‘Do the names Jock Fuller and Philip Tarrant ring any bells?’

‘Oh, aye, I remember them. Fuller was a big bluff rubber planter who was most indignant at being captured. When Tarrant was brought in wounded he calmed down and took him under his wing. They stuck close together for the month or two they were in Changi, then the Japs took them off somewhere and I didn’t see either of them for about two years.’

He looked at Jim questioningly. ‘Are these men important to you, Lieutenant – or shall I be continuing my tale?’