He let himself into the caravan, turned on the lamp, kicked off his shoes. He’d be out of a home now, of course, but he could throw himself at the mercy of the Little Sisters, if needs be. He sat on the window seat that doubled as his bed and looked across the yard at the kitchen. The light was on and he hadn’t cleared away the tea things. He watched as Geoffrey pushed himself up, held the table for support, lifted a plate and took it to the sink. No, he couldn’t just walk out, like that, after all these years. Geoffrey needed help.

Joe put his shoes back on, crossed the yard and opened the door.

‘I can leave in the morning,’ he said. ‘We–’ He corrected himself, ‘You can hire a nurse.’

‘Stop being so daft,’ Geoffrey said, sitting down, indicating to Joe that he sat too, his arthritic hands trembling on the back of the chair. ‘And that’s the end of it.’

Joe wasn’t sure he should sit, but he also knew that he could no sooner leave Geoffrey now than run a four-minute mile.

‘I’ve been thinking about what you said.’

It was a few evenings later, after supper. Geoffrey was sitting by the stove, on his usual chair. The varnish on its arms had long worn off, and the bare wood was polished with age. The kitchen faced north and was always cool, but the Aga gave out a gentle warmth which they were always grateful for, even in the summer.

Joe looked up.

‘It made no sense. You’re too hard on yourself.’

‘For what?’

Joe heard Geoffrey take a breath, pause before he spoke. ‘For what happened to Dora and me.’

Joe folded the newspaper he had been reading. They had talked more about the war of late. It had something to do with that Hummel woman, churning up old memories. Something also, Joe thought, to do with a reckoning, now their span was nearly up.

‘Why do you think that?’ Joe played for time. He hadn’t meant to betray them, but that was little consolation. His sin had had consequences.

‘Because the light reflected off your field glasses,’ Geoffrey said. ‘In the top field. And I thought to myself, he’s there, watching. He’s seen everything.’

Joe opened his mouth, lost for words. He had no idea he’d been spotted, could be spotted. Geoffrey had known all along that it was Joe. Had never said a word, for these past years. His voice was gentle. Had he forgiven Joe? How could he? Joe wasn’t sure how to answer him. This was such an intimate thing to say.

‘I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to you,’ Joe said. Be frank, after all this time. ‘I was too full of shame. Guilt.’

A coward, two and three times over.