He advanced cautiously, gun at the ready. The torch beam landed on feet first. Small, scuffed red shoes and dirty, grey ankle socks that had once been white. The muscles of Stephen’s stomach contracted and his hands started to shake so violently that he nearly dropped his gun.

It was a girl aged about ten, with knotty tobacco-coloured hair. She was wearing a red and white checked pinafore and there was a neat bullet hole in the centre of her chest. She was still alive, but only just. She had likely come from the ruined village and had lost her family in the mortar attack, hiding out in the woods; terrified, lonely and hungry. Instead of protecting her, he had pulled the trigger and murdered her. He was frantic with shock and despair. His instincts had let him down catastrophically, and not just once, but twice.

‘She didn’t make a sound, she just stared at me as the life drained out of her. I’ll never forget her face. . . And that is the story of how I was promoted to major and got my Military Cross. They decorated me for going in after the Germans without cover, you see.’

He stopped and spat. Ginie’s eyes had been steady on him the whole time and for the last part, she had been weeping quietly. His head was turned away, as if he was afraid to look at her. She wrapped him in her arms and tears that had been locked inside him for decades began to run down his cheeks. Ginie knew that he was weeping for the girl, for Will, Edward and for himself – for what had broken in him forever on that far-off day. Their picnic was long forgotten.

When he had no tears left, they sat in silence, watching a golden eagle floating less than a hundred feet above them. It came speeding down quite suddenly, mistaking the dog for a lamb. Solfo started barking and the eagle swerved up and away. They packed up and began to make their way down Ben Cruachan, fused by the secrets they had shared and forgiven.

Stephen was happy in Scotland and would have stayed, but the cold and rain wore Ginie down. She lost her appetite and grew gaunt, moving as though she were under water. She had neuralgia, sleepless nights and a cupboard full of medicines. Stephen watched in dismay. The war had ended at last and they saw what horrific destruction had been wrought. They listened to the news from the Continent: concentration camps, war crimes, refugees and orphaned children. This added to Ginie’s longing to get away from the graceless, grey, dreadfulness of Britain. Both Ginie and Stephen needed to distance themselves from the suffering and waste.