‘If he was in my class, I’d give him a good telling-off. Far too bossy. He’s a… a military twit.’

Smith stared at her for a moment, a boyish grin playing over his features. ‘You don’t like soldiers, do you?’

‘No. Not since my husband, Arthur, died. Let me tell you, John, if I were given the choice again, I wouldn’t come here. I had to endure a very harsh interview with Rocastle, and he made my appointment feel like a charitable act on his part, giving employment to a war widow with outdated references. I felt that he was being more of a friend to Arthur than to me. But I needed to make ends meet. And there’s, well, there’s another factor, which it wouldn’t be right to go into.’

‘Ah, well, I wouldn’t want you to do anything wrong because you were with me. Two heads don’t make a right.’

‘Two heads. What a terrible thought.’

‘A monster. Like Cerberus at the gates of Hell.’

Joan laughed. ‘Well, Orpheus tricked Cerberus, didn’t he?’

‘He didn’t win, though. He looked back to see Eurydice.’

‘Thank goodness you arrived. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself otherwise. Our talks, our games of whist… I do believe that they keep me sane.’

‘Yes.’ Smith turned his gaze from the shimmering trail of the Milky Way which was beginning to form overhead. ‘I feel the same way.’

‘Tell me, have you noticed how odd that boy Dean is?’

‘Dean?’

Smith was broken out of his reverie. ‘You mean Tim? Yes, he is a bit distant. Preoccupied. Like somebody’s died.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry. Shot myself in the foot. Oh no! No!’

He was visibly floundering, letting go of Joan’s arm to wave his hands into wild patterns.

Joan was laughing. ‘John, don’t worry, it was a long time ago. I rather think I’ve got used to it. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that expression, shot oneself in the foot. Very descriptive. Where does it originate?’

‘I don’t know… oh dear.’ Looking abashed, Smith took her arm once more. ‘You’re very understanding. You make everything simple. I like that.’

Joan considered. ‘Well, I like the way your face creases up whenever you have to talk about anything emotional, as though it’s going to be incredibly painful for everybody concerned. But you go ahead and say it anyway. Tell me, in your past⁠ — and please do not feel obliged to answer⁠ — was there any great tragedy? A… failed romance?’ She saw the knotted look on his face again, and her own smile faded.

‘Oh dear. I knew that I should not have asked.’ Smith looked down at the gravel beneath his feet.

‘No, no… There was somebody. When I was very young. Her name was Verity. She was a brewer’s daughter. We were engaged to be married.’

‘What happened?’