‘Then let me make it up to you.’ He took me by the shoulders and kissed me on the mouth. I stood rigid. ‘For fuck’s sake, Michael, this is where violins start playing and you melt into my fucking arms.’

‘I can’t do this. We can’t do this. It’s not fair.’

I ran out of the guard hut, and the cold night air hit me like a fist to the gut. I didn’t start crying until I got to the perimeter fence.

We didn’t speak again before Wright left for London. I watched from the library window as he was carried to the bus on the shoulders of his fan club. He was taking half a dozen of them to London – including Sergeant Kelsey, who had become his number one fan. Perhaps Stephen was right about him, too. The bus drove away, as I listened to the final act of Madam Butterfly, scratched and jumping, on the old record player.

I carried on as best I could, not sleeping, not eating, not knowing what was wrong with me, avoiding questions, avoiding company, even the padre when he made a few well-meaning enquiries.

Then I fainted in the office and was carted upstairs, a patient now. They gave me sleeping pills and antibiotics and tried to get me to eat. After three days, I was discharged, because the doctors could find nothing wrong with me. Then I collapsed in church, and was taken back in. The CMO came to see me, and asked if there were any personal or family problems. I said no, and they discharged me again. This time I collapsed in the shower block and hit my head on the floor and got a slight concussion.

‘Medway,’ said the AOC, as I shuffled into his office a few days later, walking like an old man, ‘you’re a valued member of the team here at Reville.’ The AOC is mad about sport, and talks in these terms a great deal. ‘We don’t want to lose you. Now, I’m very worried about these reports I’ve been hearing about your … harrumph, well, your health …’ He flicked through a file. ‘What’s this all about, old chap?’

‘I don’t know, sir.’

‘Do you need compassionate leave? That can be arranged.’

‘No, sir.’

He pressed his fingertips together and looked me in the eye. ‘Medway, I’m a man of the world. You wouldn’t think it to look at me, but I’ve lived through two world wars and an awful lot of messy situations on either side of them, and nothing much can shock me any more. Do you get my drift?’

‘No, sir.’

‘If there was something you wanted to tell me, Medway …’

‘Sir?’

‘I would be … understanding.’

‘There’s nothing, sir.’

He played with the papers on his desk. ‘We were all very disappointed with Wright, you know.’

‘Sir?’

‘Going AWOL. We all miss him.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Sergeant Kelsey is inconsolable.’

I laughed, quietly.

‘You must miss him too, Medway.’