‘Right.’ Max shook his hand. ‘I’m … Hang on, can you just tell me what’s going on? What am I doing here?’ He exhaled heavily. ‘It’s been kind of a long day.’

Woody looked surprised. ‘He didn’t tell you why you’re here?’

‘He didn’t tell me anything.’

‘Oh.’ Woody cocked his head again. ‘Maybe he doesn’t like you after all. Oh well. Never mind. Come with me.’

Woody strode briskly towards the Nissen huts. More confused than he’d ever been, Max trotted behind him. The peaks of the mountains surrounding them were covered by cloud. To his left, Max saw two more grounded helicopters.

Woody noticed him looking at them. ‘They’re the only way to get in and out of this valley,’ he explained. ‘It’s inaccessible by road or foot. We’re in a remote part of Scotland. Weather’s improving,’ he added without a hint of sarcasm as they passed the Nissen huts and walked across an area of cracked tarmac.

As they approached the house, Max heard – and saw – the Chinook pass overhead and head off into the distance. To the left of the secure metal front door, a plaque read ‘Valley House’. Woody pressed his finger to a sensor on the right-hand side of the door. It clicked open and they entered. They were in a musty-smelling hallway. Along one wall was a line of black-and-white photographs showing military men and women. Max had little time to examine them, but one of them caught his eye. It was of a young soldier sitting by a small fire in the jungle. It was the soldier’s face that caught Max’s attention. It looked familiar. It could have been his double, he realised. He felt an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach, as though he had recognised someone in real life whom he’d long thought to be dead.

‘Come on,’ Woody called, snapping Max back to reality. He led Max up a staircase, along a dim corridor and into a room filled with sofas and armchairs, shabby but not uncomfortable-looking. Along the far wall was a series of floor-to-ceiling windows framed by thick velvet curtains. Woody walked up to the windows. He turned and made a ‘come here’ gesture to Max.

Max joined him. He looked out of the window.

The geography of the area immediately became clearer. The house was at the floor of a long valley with steep, rocky mountain slopes on either side. The valley itself disappeared into the sleet haze, but the area behind the house was very clear. It was a puddle-strewn parade ground, populated by thirty or forty teenagers, none of them older than Max. They all wore similar camouflage gear to Woody, and beige berets. They were muddy, bedraggled and obviously exhausted. Some were bent double. Others were on their knees. A couple were retching on the edge of the parade ground.