I know that I am a coward and what I am going to do is a cowardly thing but I am being torn to pieces, slowly, and I don’t want people to see me come apart. I don’t want you, my dearest Zoë, to see your brother go mad. I don’t want to think what Mama would do and I am glad she is not here to suffer this, but I am sorry, again, that you are. I hope it is not too dreadful for you, but alas we are all very used to dreadful things and this will be better than madness for all of us. I do not believe the world will ever be right again and weak men, such as I am, will end up being crushed. You have always been brave, my dear sister, and I don’t think I have ever seen you be afraid. Please forget all about me as I do not want to be remembered at all.

Goodbye,

Your loving brother,

Pavlo

The letter is written out in Pavlo’s neat handwriting. ‘You will write like a professor at the university,’ Mama always insisted as she stood over them at their exercise books. The thought of Mama reading these words bring the tears racing down Zoë’s cheeks. She almost misses the much shakier, scrawled line at the bottom of the page.

I liked Lieutenant Tom very much, Zoë, and I thought he was a good man and a brave man. I expect he will be coming with the English soldiers. Please tell him I would have liked to talk to him more about Mr Louis Armstrong and when you see him again please tell him

The words meet the edge of the paper and stop. Were you very near the end, here? she asks her brother, silently. Had you already opened your little case and taken out the needle? What made you think of Tom Collyer, last of all? Why did you never speak to me about any of this?