It was Bennet who finally broached the silence again, addressing Finn. “You were in the war. Weren’t that like hunting?”

Inspecting his hot dog, Finn answered quietly, “No.”

“You ever kill a man?” Otto asked, now scraping the blade of his knife tenderly over his own stubble.

“Must’ve done, I guess.”

“You don’t know?” Goldwin rejoined them at the fire, Mina slumping down behind him.

“Sure, I didn’t write them after to find out, you know.”

“You ever kill anyone up close?” Bennet said.

Finn took a moment to answer, that rueful gargoyle face turning, indeed, to stone. “One time. We were in a town called Beauville. Only I remember it ’cos one of the fellas tells me it means lovely town. Funny, isn’t it? Call a place lovely town. Where you from, then? Lovely town, sure. Tempting fate, isn’t it? Like calling a girl Chastity. Krauts had bombed the behind out of the place. A mate of mine in Ireland had cystic fibrosis. Name of Fergal. Know what Fergal means? Man of strength. Couldn’t swallow his own spit in the end.”

“So what you do in this town?” Bennet said.

“Well my point is, that Lovely Town was bombed to shite. There was house-to-house fighting. No one knew where anyone was or where the hell we were meant to be going. So I turn into this alley, and right at the end of it is this Kraut. Has his back to me. Doesn’t have a notion I’m there. Looks relaxed, you know, having a sly fag, leaning up against the wall.”

“How far away was he?” Goldwin asked.

Finn pointed. “About where Magnus is from me.”

All the men looked at Magnus, who meekly put up both hands in surrender.

“So you shot him in the back.” Otto, softly stropping the knife’s blade over his lips, smiled.

“I did.”

Bennet leaned in. “What you shoot him with?”

“American M-One carbine, piece of shite.”

“One shot?” Bennet asked.

Finn blew out his cheeks, shaking his head. “I just pointed the thing and let loose.”

“Was he a young fella?” Siggy spat a brown stream into the fire.

“Never saw his face. What I remember is he tensed up. You know like you do if you think someone’s going to hit you.” Finn scrunched his head into his shoulders to demonstrate. “Like this, you know.”

“He had time to do that?” Siggy said.

“Sure, he had time to write his last will and testament. Didn’t hit him until the fourth or fifth shot.”

Sal cut in. “You still think about it, Finn?”

Finn nodded. “Had to stop going to the swimming hole of a summer. You know when the kids come out of the water and they’re cold and their mum puts a towel around them, and they do that.” Trembling, he turtled his head into his shoulders. “Always puts me in mind of it.”

“There we go,” Bennet declared conclusively, leaning back. “He may never have sheathed his shiv, but he’s the only one of you here got the stones to kill anyone.”