‘Maybe there were things that he could only do if he was human. You describe him as a friend. Are you and he husband and wife?’

Benny laughed. ‘No. He doesn’t really do that sort of thing. He surrounds himself with female company, mind you, quite innocently.’

‘And male company?’

‘Occasionally. Equally innocently.’

‘Well, perhaps he wants to fall in love.’

‘He couldn’t have thought of that when he did it,’ Benny protested uncertainly. ‘But you might be right.’

‘Oh, I usually am,’ muttered Alexander. ‘God, I’m in danger of keeping you up all night. Listen, tomorrow the three of us, you, me and Constance, will go and find this Pod thing, all right?’

‘Does Constance have a young man?’

‘Well, my chum Richard says so. Not him, but I think there are a few in the Labour group who worship her.’

‘Oh. Odd.’

‘Hmm?’

‘Nothing.’ Benny got up and stretched. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. I gather that I should put a chair up against my door.’

‘Dear girl, why should you?’

‘Constance said that you believed in free love.’

‘Not with those in distress, loved one! Or those in mourning.’

‘Yes…’ said Benny. ‘Good night.’

After she’d gone, Alexander reached for the history unit again, turning it over and over in his hands. ‘My God,’ he whispered, ‘I’m glad I lived to see this.’

A little circle of boys had gathered around Timothy’s bed, staring down at the body.

They’d tucked him in and told the Prep master that he was feeling ill. Then they’d turned off his bedside lamp and prepared the cold body for bed, folding him into his pyjamas like they were dressing a flaccid, awkward mannequin.

Anand had been locked in a chest and declared ill also. Phipps stared at Hutchinson’s stoic features. ‘We can’t go on with this, Captain,’ he said. ‘They’ll want him for OTC tomorrow. They’ll come and see him.’

‘Died in his sleep?’ suggested Merryweather. ‘They’ll see the rope marks on his neck, for Christ’s sake! And what about the darkie?’

‘You could kill him too,’ murmured Alton, seemingly amused by the whole business.

Hutchinson glanced up from the body, as if woken from a dream. ‘I don’t know what you’re all talking about,’ he said. ‘He’ll be fine in the morning.’

‘Hutchinson,’ Merryweather hissed, ‘he’s dead!’

‘He’s not dead,’ Hutchinson fixed the younger boy with a glare, ‘until I say so. Any objections?’

Phipps put a hand to his mouth. He’d been looking ill all evening. ‘No, Captain,’ he mumbled.

The others replied the same, one by one.

‘Good,’ said Hutchinson. ‘That’s decided. I suggest we all retire.’

Somewhere outside of time, in the white void. ‘Who are you?’ Timothy asked Death.