What could he say? Officer, I have something I need to tell you. The missing American, John Doherty, known as Jack, was with me the night of the flood. Oh yes, they would say, pencil poised, waiting, curious. He fell out of the boat, officer. There was nothing I could do. He disgusted himself with his pathetic humbling act. He could not explain, that was the trouble, he could not explain. I lost him in the dark, officer. I wanted to tell someone but… It was a lie. A lie. They would know it was a lie.

‘You’re not eating properly, Arthur.’

He looked down at the remains of the gloop in his bowl, but couldn’t stomach another mouthful. He picked up the bowl and scraped the gluey remains into the bin. ‘I’m not hungry,’ he said.

‘But you have to eat,’ his mother said, imploring.

‘I’m fine,’ he said. He held the spoon in mid-air. What if they just wanted to ask him some questions? He didn’t have to tell them the truth. He was with Jack, then he disappeared. Nothing about the boat. No idea what happened to him, officer. Although he felt bad at her fallen face as he left, he couldn’t do anything about it. He had to go, now, right now, before he lost the nerve.

Inside the station, a police constable was at the desk with a pencil in his mouth, drumming the counter. Arthur recognised him. He was not much older than him, a callow, thin youth with a hint of old acne around his jaw. He hadn’t noticed Arthur coming in and he was about to cough when the PC put a finger up, keeping his eyes on the paper in front of him until he had finished with the form he was filling in. His name was Blowers; Arthur remembered him as one of the raggedy kids who used to run around with Muriel – the village children as opposed to those at the grammar or, certainly, the big houses, like Howe Farm. It would have been easier for Arthur if he’d embraced a job like this, a cut above shopkeeping but nothing too startlingly out of his class. But he despised the likes of Blowers, that was his problem. He’d left them behind when he went to the grammar but he’d never belonged with Verity’s class either. He was lost.

‘Hello, Mr Silver, thanks for coming in. Stay there.’ He waved at Arthur to remain where he was and called through the back, ‘Doris? Can you cover me?’ A neat middle-aged lady with half-moon glasses and a pinched mouth smiled at the policeman and took his seat.