I did as he suggested. The thermos was a red tartan and warm to the touch. I poured thick brown liquid into the plastic cup and took a slurp just as we set off. I scalded my lip but laughed it off. There was brandy in the coffee and it warmed me as if I had swallowed hot coals.

‘This some sort of tribute to Fairfax then?’ asked Loz, sitting forward in his seat as the wiper carved a sail of visibility in the cascading water. I shot a glance at him. He wasn’t looking at me. Was focussing hard on the road ahead.

‘You knew Fairfax?’

‘Aye, course. Everybody knew Fairfax. Were a sickener to hear on it. Tellt him that car were a fool’s toy but he wouldn’t be tellt.’

‘Tellt?’

He glanced across. Narrowed his eyes as if doing sums. Then snapped his fingers. ‘Told, I means. Sorry love. Ye must think we all talk like cavemen, eh? Where ye from yersel’?’

I stared ahead at the road. Watched the castle growing larger. The rain had darkened the stone and cleaned the windows and it was hard to believe the fortress was hundreds of years old.

‘Nowhere in particular,’ I said, keeping it vague. ‘I studied at Oxford. Nuffield.’

‘Aye? Get a good job off that, did ye?’

I finished the coffee. Savoured the richness. ‘I didn’t finish,’ I said.

‘No? Married life call, did it?’

‘Something like that.’

I could feel him watching me. I became aware of the scratchiness of the seat covers. Felt prickly and agitated as my clothes started to steam.

‘Fairfax,’ I said, changing the subject again. ‘You asked if I was doing a tribute. What did you mean?’

Loz swung the vehicle right through a gap in the hedge just before we reached the main entrance to the castle. It looked deserted. There were no vehicles in the courtyard and the curtains at the windows I could make out through the rain all hung askew or were entirely missing. We ploughed on, into the neighbouring field.

‘He were the local history fella,’ shrugged Loz. ‘Always asking questions and scribbling away. Planned a book, so he said. Were gonna be the width of a kerbstone if he ever published it. But he were good to talk to. Liked knowing what ye thought of things. Liked yer stories.’

‘What did you and he talk about?’ I asked, jolting suddenly as the vehicle clunked into a dip in the surface of mud and grass and rock.

‘Family,’ said Loz. ‘Who we were, what brought us here, how long we’d had the farm.’

‘The camp?’ I asked, gently.

‘Oh aye. We dug a lot of it out so only made sense. Keith Tanner’s old father did the construction work but me and mine cleared the fields. I were mebs eighteen. Mebs more. Were a rush job but the ministry paid handsome.’

‘And Fairfax was interested in your memories?’