Arthur watched him re-emerge and continue on. Past a church on their right, Jack took a sudden right turn and, holding fast to the church wall, Arthur saw him go into a coffee shop in a medieval-looking building at the top of the road. He quickly stepped back and into the churchyard where he could position himself behind a tall headstone and see, unseen, into the café. It glowed invitingly with electric yellow light. Jack was sitting down at an empty table by the window. Condensation dripped down the windows and his back was facing the street, but Arthur could see it was him clear enough. On Jack’s left, two women in furry hats were talking animatedly. On the right, Arthur could just see an older man, with a brown cap and a lean, shaven face, reading a newspaper. Nothing seemed to happen. He stamped his feet on the hard earth beneath him and pulled his greatcoat tighter around him. A waitress brought over a tray with a pot and a small china cup. Jack poured coffee and spooned sugar into his cup and drank. Then he pulled something from his pocket. Arthur strained forward to see what it was and his shoulders dropped, disappointed. It was a cigarette case, square and metal, which he laid on the table. Arthur waited. His legs ached from having to half crouch behind the headstone and his back was cold. Jack took something from the front pocket of his jacket. He lit up a cigarette, offered one to the man diagonally opposite him. The metal case Jack had lain on the table couldn’t be a cigarette case.

Arthur’s heart beat faster. Why didn’t he have a camera or binoculars? He almost laughed. He was acting like he was in one of the boy’s own adventures he’d read as a child. But he had no time to think about anything because Jack was already pushing back his chair. In a minute, he would be out of the coffee shop, and Arthur would have to be out of sight and ahead of him.

*

Back in the station café, breathing through his nose and affecting nonchalance, Arthur ordered a fresh pot of tea. Peter was fast asleep, his head on the table, his spittle pooling on the Formica. The shilling was gone, but otherwise no one seemed to be much bothered about him. When Jack sauntered in, minutes later, he didn’t tell them where he had been other than to say, ‘Got some Christmas gifts.’

Arthur nudged Peter, who woke with a start and, blinking, began tearing off bits of the crushed tea cake and chewing them slowly, like one of his cows.