Jameson had felt sceptical about Karene and Harry’s romance when he first met Karene. He knew this was because of Seraphine, but he couldn’t help it. His brief relationship with her had him believing in soulmates and then, boom, she turned out to be a psychopath who had faked it all to target Bloom. It had never been about him at all.

But he was starting to feel sorry for these two. From what he’d heard, they really had been a great match. Sometimes it was hard to look at the pain on Karene’s face.

Harry continued to look through the photographs as Karene began making lunch. She laid out cheeses and deli meats on a wooden board and began to slice a French stick.

Jameson watched the computer screen as Harry flicked from one photo to another. The ball had been an extravagant event with men in uniform and women in evening gowns. The sun had been shining and occasionally a photograph would show the string quartet playing on the lawn, or the opening to a large marquee where round tables were set for dinner with wine glasses and champagne flutes that were destined to remain unused. Harry looked more and more despondent with each picture. At one point he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples as if willing his brain into action.

Karene placed lunch on the table and laid out plates and tumblers of water for each of them. ‘Why not take a break and we’ll eat something.’

Harry began to close the laptop and then stopped. He pushed the screen back up again and flicked back through a couple of images until he found the one of the grey-haired man standing on the concourse. He zoomed in on the man’s face.

‘Do you recognize him?’ said Jameson.

‘No, I just …’ He squinted at the screen which now showed just the man’s head and shoulders. ‘Earlier when we were discussing him I had a flash of something, a flicker of a memory maybe.’

Jameson and Karene glanced at each other and then back at Harry.

‘His epaulettes. I can’t see clearly enough.’

‘You remembered his epaulettes?’ said Karene.

‘They’re the shoulder patches that show rank insignia,’ said Jameson. ‘Are you trying to check his rank because I already did that. He’s a sub-lieutenant.’

Karene said, ‘I know what they are, but why would you remember his epaulettes?’