The man in the wheelchair had no legs. Where his legs should have been there was simply nothing. What looked like two white bowls were attached just below his waist. One of his arms was a far lighter colour than his black skin and it was only the weak sun glinting on a curved piece of metal where a hand had once been that made me understand he was wearing a prosthesis.

The man with a walking stick had also lost his legs. Or most of his legs. Two thin black poles stuck out of his long baggy blue shorts. What remained of his right leg had some kind of white bandage around the knee area. He appeared to need the stick to stand up but his upper body was incredibly muscular.

They were all laughing.

‘The British Army is still the biggest employer of Potter’s Field old boys,’ Waugh said. ‘Despite what the general public may think, not all the old boys go into investment banking in the City and the RSC in Stratford. We never forget our debt to our country.’

We watched the three men perform a few gentle exercises, the man in the wheelchair and the one with the stick taking their directions from the physio, the man who looked as though he was wearing a mask.

‘Splendid, splendid,’ Waugh said, turning away when he decided we had seen enough.

‘You knew them,’ Mallory said. It wasn’t a question. ‘You knew Hugo Buck and Adam Jones. When they were at Potter’s Field. You were here too, were you not? Twenty years ago. In fact, you were their House Master.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Waugh said. ‘Did I not mention that?’

Mallory let him fill the silence.

‘Buck and Jones were both in The Abbey. It’s the oldest and smallest house at Potter’s Field. Not the most obvious of friendships – the athlete and the musician. But sharing a house throws boys together.’

‘Could you explain the role of a House Master at Potter’s Field?’ I said.

Waugh sniffed.

‘A boarding school is really just a day school with hotels attached,’ he said. ‘The House Master is in charge of the hotel where the boys live. He assumes a parental role – encouraging, supporting and making sure they participate fully in the life of the school. Disciplining when necessary.’ The thin smile. ‘Although of course there’s not so much of that these days. Boys don’t get flogged and they don’t learn so much. So what they gain at one end they lose at the other.’

There were bird-like noises from the far side of the playing fields.

‘Hark,’ said Waugh. ‘I believe Mr Philips and the boys are coming home.’

The soldiers saw it first.