‘You wouldn’t. You’re tougher than that.’

‘I may seem like an old boot to you, but I was once a relatively delicate flower, you know. Even after National Service and the loony bin and all my trials and tribulations in London. But there were two things that kept me going. First of all, I’ve always been an optimist, and I wanted to see what would happen to the world when I got out. And secondly, I was happy for the boys, and I didn’t want them to have my death on their conscience.’

‘And did they live happily ever after?’

He sips his drink, nibbles on a piece of bread. ‘I wouldn’t say that, exactly. I mean there were dramas.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Dramas, dear! Oh, I’ve had him crying on my shoulder more times than I care to mention. Mervyn had what you might call a wandering eye. Men, women, you know – he wasn’t fussy. But he always came back. He loved him, you see.’

I think about Stuart, how it never once occurred to me to take him back after what he did to me. So that, I suppose, was not love, never had been, never would be. Simon comes in, tops up our glasses, says dinner will be ready in twenty minutes, takes away the hors d’oeuvres so we won’t spoil our appetites.

‘So why did you do it, Stephen? Why did you go to the police, knowing that you could easily end up in prison yourself?’

‘You make it sound as if it was all carefully planned and thought through, but really it wasn’t. I did it on instinct. I never thought about the consequences. I just couldn’t stand seeing Michael so unhappy, and I knew that there was something I could do to help him, so off I trolled, very pleased with myself, into the lions’ den. I was brave, I suppose. Brave, or stupid.’ He got up, went to the window, looked out. ‘But I loved him. I never stopped loving him.’ He rummages in his jacket pocket for cigarettes. ‘I suppose this is one of those bloody no smoking flats, isn’t it, and I’ll have to go and freeze my fanny out on the balcony’

‘Go ahead.’ I find matches, and light his cigarette.

‘Bless you, dear. You’re not all bad.’ He smokes quietly for a while. ‘Once you get to know you, that is.’

‘I suppose I made a very poor impression.’

‘I won’t lie, dear. I told Michael you were trash. I didn’t see why he bothered with you … Well, apart from the obvious, that is. He always did have an eye. But he seemed to think you were worth the trouble and so I went along with it for his sake. Anything that took his mind off Mervyn’s death was a blessed relief, even if it was an infatuation with a boy who could have been his grandson.’

‘Infatuation? Oh, I hardly think …’

‘No, I don’t imagine you do. Well, I won’t embarrass you.’ He smokes his cigarette down to the stub, and flicks it out of the window. ‘Now there’s a really common habit for you. I feel quite ashamed. Where was I? Boring you rigid with some sordid tale I’ve no doubt.’