‘He were born two years before me so I think he were like a big brother in a way. It was him talked me out of signing up in the Great War. I were full of zeal for it. Wanted to serve me country and see the world. Fairfax got wind of me lying about me age. Dragged me back from the recruitment office in Haltwhistle by the scruff of me neck. Gave me the beating of me life. Didn’t practice what he preached though. Signed up himself in ’16.’

I let my surprise show in my face. ‘He fought in the first war?’

‘Never spoke of it, though he dug halfway to Hell in those trenches. Fusilier. Saw things a man shouldn’t see.’

‘He came back to Gilsland?’

Nixon noticed the surprise in my voice. ‘You’re thinking that after seeing the world it would be madness to come back to a little place like this. I understand, love. But think of it t’other way. You’ve survived a war that blew your mates to bits. You’ve seen what human beings can do to one another. Wouldn’t you want to be somewhere safe and comfortable with the people who care about you? Wouldn’t that be more appealing?’

For all the admirable textbooks on war and sociology that I had read, it was Carl Nixon’s simple words that first made me actually stop and think. He saw it in my face.

‘It’s not all bad, is Gilsland, love. I know it must seem confusing to a newcomer but it’s cities that are the odd ones. Real people live in places like this, love. Communities. Streets where people know your name and what you’re up to. Streets where you can share a pint with somebody whose grandad used to play football with your grandad. If that’s to be scorned I’d rather be on the receiving end than dishing it out.’

I shook my head at that. ‘I’ve never scorned any of you,’ I said. ‘I’m just not part of it. I haven’t said a word of insult about any of you.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s a small place. All it takes is a letter you’ve mailed a friend to accidentally rip; to maybe need a replacement envelope … maybe somebody in the post office casts a glance over the contents to make sure nobody’s spilled their tea on your words to a friend. And the next thing everybody knows what you think. Everybody knows you reckon there are more teeth than brain cells in our heads and that our mums and sisters are the same people. Then it can be harder for you to be welcomed.’

My mouth was wide open. How dare they! How dare they read my private post. How could they hold words written in confidence against me? That would be like holding the contents of somebody’s diary against them.