The points of the cypress trees lining the wall of a cemetery are getting sharp against the sky. He has been walking for half an hour. A large ginger cat with a sagging belly is walking along the top of the wall, keeping pace with him. ‘Morning,’ Tom says to it, and it blinks its sulphur-yellow eyes. Suddenly he hears an engine, a large one, coming down the street behind him. He whirls around, expecting to see a German armoured car, but instead, to his amazement, a large, dilapidated bus is approaching. This is a dream, he tells himself as he steps to the edge of the pavement and holds out his arm. The bus stops, and the door opens. The driver, unshaven but in uniform, nods at him. He says something in Greek and Tom has to shake his head.

‘Do you speak English?’ Tom asks. ‘Where are you going?’ The driver shakes his head and waves Tom aboard.

‘Ela,’ he says.

‘No money,’ Tom says, patting his pockets. The driver shakes his head again.

‘Den peirázei,’ he says. Tom understands: it doesn’t matter.

‘Thank you!’ he says, and clambers aboard. The bus is empty. The driver closes the door and they trundle off. They rattle along empty streets, the driver pulling up doggedly at each stop, but there are no other passengers. The bus doesn’t seem to be able to go much above ten miles an hour, but Tom calculates that they are heading towards the sea, and that is good enough. Eventually they come over the crest of a low hill and Tom glimpses the sea, not very far away. The bus slows down and creaks to a standstill. There is no stop, as far as Tom can see, but then the driver turns to him, pointing down the street.

‘Asfaleia,’ he says. ‘Police. Maybe … not good for English soldier.’

Tom looks past him. There is a small company of men in uniform at the next crossroads, next to a military truck. ‘Should I get out?’ Tom asks.

‘Yes. You go now.’

‘OK. Thank you.’

‘Parakalo.’

‘Ah …’ Tom hesitates in the doorway. He points towards the sea, hopefully. ‘Glyfada?’

But the driver shakes his head. ‘Faliron. Glyfada’ – he points to the left – ‘very far.’ Then he points to the right. ‘Piraeus. Near.’

‘Right. Thank you,’ says Tom again. But the door is already closing. ‘God go with you,’ he hears the driver say. The bus trundles off.