Rupe knew if they were to seek justice, however, common sense must prevail.

‘We’re just surmising, Kase,’ he warned, ‘we can’t prove a thing. Keep your mouth shut for now and don’t talk to anyone about this. If you do, word’s bound to get back to Maxwell. We’ll ask around quietly, see what we can find out.’

Rupe decided nonetheless to pay a visit to Samuel Robinson. He would make no mention of his suspicions, but he would show Robinson the book. Captain Robinson, above all others, knew the value Anthony Hill placed on his copy of Just So Stories. Surely the destruction of something so precious to young Ant would point to possible foul play. And then perhaps this might lead to some form of investigation, Rupe thought, or at least to some questions being asked, instead of the complacent acceptance by all that Anthony Hill’s death was no more than an unfortunate accident.

But Captain Samuel Robinson was not to be found. At the Company C headquarters tent, young Percy Owen said he’d left for town just half an hour ago.

Captain Samuel Robinson had been called into the city for an urgent meeting with Major Hank Henry. A meeting where an announcement was to be made that would ultimately alter the course of history for the men of the 96th Battalion, or at least those of Companies A and C who had been posted to Kelso.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘What do you mean the club’s to be closed?’ Seated opposite the major in the provost marshal’s office, Samuel couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

‘Just that,’ Hank Henry replied. ‘The troops of the 96th are to remain barred from town and there is to be no club outside the city limits. It’s back to scratch, I’m afraid.’

There was just the vaguest hint of apology in Hank’s tone, or at least of regret. Hank Henry was not given to apologies of any kind, and certainly not for circumstances that were beyond his control.

‘But why,’ Samuel demanded, ‘tell me why? For God’s sake, what possible reason could there be?’ The normally implacable Samuel Robinson was having trouble controlling his anger, which was steadily on the rise. ‘The club was run in an orderly fashion as stipulated,’ he emphasised, ‘there were no brawls, no disturbances, just as we’d agreed. Give me one good reason for its closure.’

Hank heaved a sigh that seemed to say here we go. ‘There have been complaints,’ he said with a touch of world-weariness.

‘From whom?’

‘From local farmers in the vicinity.’

‘Complaints about what?’

‘Noise for one thing …’ He shrugged as if aware the explanation was a lame one.