‘It’s a bit far for me and Peggy to get to,’ said Jim, downing his fourth whisky. ‘But I promise to look into the price of train tickets.’

‘Och, now who’s counting their pennies, eh, Jim?’ teased Jumbo. ‘You’ll have saved a fair whack of your wages and there’s your demob money to come – so don’t pretend you cannae afford it.’

‘If my Peggy’s done half the alterations to the house that she threatened to do, then I’ll have very little money left,’ Jim said gloomily before downing the cold beer in three large gulps.

Jumbo grinned, finished his beer and then reached for his bagpipes. ‘How about one last tune before we say goodbye?’

‘Aye, why not?’ said Jim, wondering what on earth the Indian owners of the bar would say to having that racket in this confined space.

Jumbo blew air into the bag and the pipes whined and screeched for a bit and then he began to play a lovely, lilting Scottish tune that was unfamiliar to Jim.

The enormous Scotsman got to his feet and went outside as the owners and other customers covered their ears. He stood on the street corner, the sound less intrusive in the open air, but stirring enough to stop passers-by and still the other Scots who were now clambering into a fleet of army trucks.

The tune came to an end and Jumbo hitched the bagpipes under one arm as he flung his other round Jim’s shoulders and squeezed him to his side. ‘For a Sassenach, you’re all right, Jim. It’s been an honour and a privilege to know you. Keep your powder dry, my friend, and have a safe journey home.’

‘I’ll see you again, you old rogue,’ replied Jim gruffly, ‘even if it does cost me an arm and a leg to get to you.’ He lightly punched Jumbo’s muscled belly, feeling foolish to be so emotional about this parting. ‘You’d better get a move on. The trucks are starting to leave.’

Jumbo grinned and strode off, kilt swinging, to clamber into the back of the last truck, showing off a good bit of hairy and very sturdy legs. As the truck pulled away, he saluted Jim before striking up a lively reel on his bagpipes.

Jim saluted back and stood in the street until the truck was out of sight and the sound of the bagpipes no longer drifted back to him. Turning away finally, he climbed back into the car to do one last circuit of the island before he had to return it to the motor pool.

Standing on the deck of the Empress Aurelia at sunrise on the next day, he leaned on the railings to say a last goodbye to the part of the world that had been his home and his hell for too many years. And yet there had been good times too, and he knew he had much to be grateful for.

He was the fittest he’d ever been, strong and healthy, his battle-scars merely fading reminders of how lucky he was when so many had not been as fortunate. And he’d surprised himself at his ability to do a job he’d never in a million years have applied for. It certainly boded well for the future, and the letter he’d posted last night to Elsa’s friend in the Legion was the first step, for he knew now that he was capable of so much more than being a grease monkey for the rest of his life.