‘Yes, Mum.’

‘Do you have a question?’ she demanded of Cardilini.

Cardilini struggled to ask his question, ‘Can you tell me what this represents?’

Mrs Lockheed turned to her son who shook his head.

She turned back to Cardilini, ‘It’s a discipline. A tradition, apparently. As punishment the cadets are required to stand with their rifles above their heads. It becomes very painful eventually, I’m told.’

‘I see,’ Cardilini retrieved the sketch and put it in his pocket.

‘You came for that? No. They want to know if I still believe my son,’ Mrs Lockheed accused Cardilini.

‘Mum. No. Please.’

‘John. It was that man.’

‘Can I go then? I can’t . . . I can’t . . . please.’

‘Will you stay in your bedroom, please, John, until I come?’

‘Yes.’

‘I won’t be a moment. Don’t worry.’ Mrs Lockheed watched through the kitchen doorway until she heard a door close. When she turned back to Cardilini, she had a tear running down her cheek. She made no attempt to conceal or wipe it away. Cardilini found it difficult to look at her.

‘Do you have children?’ she asked.

‘A son, Paul, he’s eighteen.’

‘I have three children. John was our shining light, forging the way ahead for his brother and sister. Now he won’t leave his room. The other children think their father left because of him. None of this has been of our own making.’

Cardilini looked at her, wanting to help but completely at a loss.

‘John has lied to me on occasions. On this occasion he isn’t lying. He hasn’t the cunning to make the story up. If his father weren’t such a weak man he would know that, too. Captain Edmund followed a school tradition in using this punishment. I believe records were kept as to how long a boy could stand like that. But Captain Edmund decided to add –’ Mrs Lockheed stopped as if her words were caught in her throat. Then with laboured breath she continued, ‘to challenge the boys further Captain Edmund would unbutton the boys’ trousers and push their trousers and underwear down to their ankles.’ She swallowed heavily several times as more tears tracked her cheeks. ‘He explained that this was how it happened in the army and if any of them had any aspirations to one day defend their country and their mothers and sisters –’ she stopped again and steeled herself for what was to come. Cardilini wanted to reach out, to comfort her but he sat spellbound, almost breathless.

Mrs Lockheed continued. ‘Then to ensure they were made of the right stuff, he proceeded to flick their penis. A boy at this time might “fail to accept authority.” To the poor children who did continue, Edmund would push the end of his baton between the boys’ buttocks . . . and that is all I can say. I believe he continued in other ways; very, very evil ways.’ She closed her eyes, her face tense, and pushed at the tears running down her cheeks. ‘We have attended three young men’s funerals over the years. One recently. A very high number I would think. The St Nicholas men won’t tell you this. You would need to talk to the mothers and they mightn’t tell you either. Now please, see yourself out.’