But Kim had wanted him anyway, and he’d fought accordingly, until he got it through Will’s thick skull that it was time to stop seeing where they went and start heading there on purpose. Slippery, vulnerable, starlight Kim had dug in for the duration with a stubbornness Will himself might not have equalled, and the least he could do was match that.

So he’d do better. He had to: he wasn’t giving this up now. There was something in Kim that called to something in himself with a fierce urgency like the baying of hounds on the scent, and that was all that mattered. Yes, there were going to be problems and he’d have to make sure he didn’t add to them by, for example, punching any more rich people. But he’d never felt the sort of connection with another human soul that he did with Kim, and he wasn’t letting it go either by choice or by stupidity, and that was all there was to it.

He fell asleep on that vow, and woke entangled with Kim’s excessively sprawling limbs.

“Morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning.” Kim smiled at him, drowsy and almost shy. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.”

“So did I, for a miracle. Good Lord, it’s past eight.”

“So it is. Reckon Chingford’s come back?”

Kim considered. “Do you know, I’m sure he has.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I was sure last night that he would come back, as a gentleman who had given his word. I am sure he’s even now sleeping off his bad temper. So I suggest we go for a nice long walk, and if we discover that he’s missing when we return, that’s the point we realise that we were wrong and call the police.”

“And he’ll be on the Continent by then?”

“The Aurora can do fourteen knots under steam and sail. Nine or ten hours to Vlissingen, assuming he makes full speed. If that’s not enough of a head start, he’s on his own. Shall we get up?”

They got up. They ate breakfast, which Kim had a proper appetite for this morning, and told each other about the lovely sunny weather, and headed out for a walk. It felt so different from yesterday’s walk that Will could have sung.

Kim seemed to feel the same, because he was whistling. Will must love him, because he didn’t mind.

He couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, he took his tea so weak it ought to be illegal, he might be letting his brother get away with murder right now, and Will felt like the whole world came to a point on him. Everything that mattered and everything he needed was right here in the dark-eyed man walking next to him, butchering ‘You’d Be Surprised’.