It was the boy who saw him first. In just a few months he’d grown into a young man bearing a disturbing resemblance to his father. ‘It’s Vikram, isn’t it?’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘Dad’s friend from work? I’m Christopher.’

Yes, I am Vikram. The man who may have caused your father’s death. ‘You’ve got a good memory, Christopher. When I came to visit, you kindly lent me your bedroom.’

‘Come and say hello to Mum. She’ll be pleased to see you.’

Lizzie was still surrounded by solicitous women in large hats, but as they approached she looked up with a brave smile, her face pale with strain. ‘Mr Mackensie, how kind of you to come all this way.’

‘Johnnie was such a good friend to me, Mrs Palmer.’

‘You must come back to the house for tea and sandwiches, if you have the time?’

The little cottage was filled with people who all seemed to know each other, talking at the tops of their voices. Vic escaped to the garden with his cup of tea, wondering how soon he could politely slip away, and how he would get back to the station from here. Christopher approached, joining him on the mossy wall.

‘Phew. It’s quieter out here.’

‘You okay?’ Vic asked.

‘Will be once they’ve all gone,’ the boy said. ‘Can’t stand all this hugging business.’

‘They’re doing their best to show they care about you, and about your father.’

‘S’pose so.’

They paused, listening to a bird in the tree above them. ‘Is that a blackbird?’

‘A robin, I think.’

‘Your father was good at birds. He taught me the difference between seagulls and terns.’

‘He was good at lots of things.’

‘That’s true. He was a great man, Christopher, very kind and very clever, two virtues that don’t usually go together.’ The boy’s gaze dropped to the ground, and Vic feared he might cry. ‘I’m so sorry. I always say the wrong thing.’

‘It’s all right.’ A longer pause. ‘He liked you too, you know? He told us you were the cleverest person he’d ever met, and that working with you sort of made up for being away from us for so long, and what you were doing together would make our country safer. He said that your inventions were going to protect us, to make sure me and Beth had a free country to live in, and that was why it was so vital and why we had to forgive him for not being here much.’

‘I am very touched, Christopher. Thank you.’

‘You will carry on, won’t you? Even though he’s gone?’

‘It’ll be much harder without your father, but I’ll do my best.’

How could he not carry on, with these expectations behind him? Johnnie’s precious boy, who would, please God, never be old enough to fight, was depending on him. This brief conversation had reminded him why the work was so important. Thank heavens Dr Rowe’s spilled tea had spoiled his resignation letter.