‘Been through a lot had Fairfax. Lost his son at the tail end of the war. Was a wireless operator who should have been miles from danger. His boy were a soft soul. Bad eyes and a weak chest but he signed up rather than be called up. RAF, same as me, though we were never anywhere near one another. Radio station he was in took a direct hit. Fairfax were broken up, you could tell that, but he kept it in, like you had to. Dealt with it the right way. Crying shame. Had a gift for words did his son. Reckon he would have been a writer if he’d made it back. Fairfax would have been proud as you like. If you ask me that’s the only reason he took it up himself. Helped him feel close, if that doesn’t sound too feeble.’

I wasn’t sure what he meant. Told him so.

‘You must be one of the few he never talked to,’ said Stubbs, with a laugh. ‘Quite the scribbler, was Fairfax. Wrote a couple of little pamphlets on the history of Gilsland. Another on walks along the Roman Wall, which made him few friends, I can tell you. Last thing we need is even more people up here. We’re at capacity.’

I looked around at the empty bar. Raised an eyebrow.

‘Was he good?’ I asked.

‘At what?’

‘Writing.’

He scratched his chin. Shrugged. ‘Good at asking questions. Always jotting stuff down, like a journalist in a film. Needed a hat with the word “Press” in it to complete the look. Wanted to do a book on the people of Gilsland. Said it had a fascinating history, which I don’t suppose I can argue with. Always asking if he could pop over for an interview. That’s what he called them, his chats. Interviews.’

‘What was he working on?’ I asked, and while the snobbish part of me was eager to dismiss his efforts as the works of an amateur, I still found myself eager to read the results.

‘Something on the old camp,’ he said, sucking his lip. ‘POW place up the road. All gone now. Was a big old set-up in its day though. Hundreds of Germans. Thousands maybe. You must know this, love, you can’t not have heard.’

I found myself embarrassed. Temper flashed, as it always did when I found myself not knowing the answer to something.

‘I’ve not become encyclopaedic, no,’ I said, and immediately heard myself sounding like a snooty cow. I softened my face and tone. ‘I’m interested though.’

‘There’s books and stuff. People remember. Some of the prisoners even stayed. Married local girls. To be honest, Fairfax would have been the one to talk to, if you do want to know.’

I looked down at the varnished bar. Drew a stick man in some spilled beer. It looked twisted, like it had fallen from the sky.