The bike was gone. Where it had been, there was now a river of water. It was up to his knees. He reached down to where he’d left it but there was nothing but freezing cold seawater. Then he saw it, the handlebars sticking up, across the street over by a closed shop on the corner of the Buttlands. He waded over and took the light off the front, pocketed it, then he turned down Staithe Street. There was no point taking it now. He needed a boat, not a bike. Figures huddled outside the village hall. The band were coming out with their instruments above their heads and he half laughed, they looked so ridiculous.

He tried to peer into the dance floor, but it had been abandoned and water was sloshing over the floor where the dancers had been. Someone must have evacuated them all.

A young policeman was directing stragglers up the street, away from the sea. Arthur tried to go past him.

‘Not this way, sir, town’s flooding, it’s not safe down there.’

‘But there’s people down there… my mother…’

‘Arthur!’ And there was Jack, his uniform on, grinning at him as if it were all a great wheeze. ‘Don’t worry, officer, this chap is with me.’

‘I see, sir. Well, mind how you go there. Look after your mother, Mr Silver,’ he added.

‘We will,’ said Jack.

Arthur and Jack waded down the street towards the sea. Typical. The unfailing magic of a uniform. He considered his draft article on the base. Nuclear Armageddon. He had another possible title: Revealed: Secrets of Atom-Bomb Base. He’d hardly seen Jack but the one American airman he personally knew would never tell him anything. He had to rely on the ones who frequented the Shipwright’s or the Crown, whose sense of secrecy waned after a few pints. He thought again about Norwich and what he’d seen through the misted café window. It could be nothing. And yet the feeling of distrust was almost physical. He wasn’t going to mention the article.

‘What the hell are you doing here, Jack? I’ve got to get to the shop.’

‘I was at the dance. No point going back to the base. No flights tonight.’

Arthur stopped, floodwater rushing around his legs. Jack had been at the dance at the village hall. Verity had said she was going to the same one, hadn’t she? His legs quivered in a strange way. He struggled to find the words to ask Jack about her, but the American was already talking.

‘Listen, I’ve got an idea. Pete went back to the farm. He’s going to need help with the animals. We should go out there.’