‘When I was about fifteen,’ Jack continued, ‘I realised I couldn’t remember her voice. You know my memory, Ewan, it’s spectacular – every fact about dinosaurs I learned as a child I can still regurgitate now – but I can’t remember stuff when I spend years shutting it out.’

Ewan took a moment to see if he could remember his own mother’s voice. He was afraid Jack might be right.

‘I didn’t want to deal with the hurt,’ Jack continued. ‘But when I realised what I was forgetting, I changed. I decided the hurt was worthwhile. Bring on the pain, if it keeps her alive in my head.’

Ewan nodded, and gave an answer that didn’t reference his mother.

‘McCormick says something similar,’ he said. ‘One of his little catchphrases. The pain of missing someone is always worth it—’

‘For the joy of having known them,’ finished Jack. ‘And he’s right. I don’t know what kind of relationship you had with her, but keep it alive. Even if it means—’

‘Have to stop you, Jack. We’ve arrived.’

The hiding spot was still in the distance, but it was a convenient excuse to withdraw from the conversation. Their vantage point was a crater next to the hill’s peak, surrounded by trees. An elevated view with excellent cover. Ewan approached, knowing what sight would await them once they reached the brow of the hill.

And there it was. Oakenfold Special School.

Oakenfold, where the world had made just a little more sense. Where people either knew how to accommodate students with special needs, or at least gave a crap about trying.

Oakenfold, where the problems were not the person.

In order to cope with his own reaction, Ewan looked at his friends’ faces for theirs. But each of them echoed his own feelings: complete and utter confusion.

He had expected Oakenfold to look like a military compound, lit up with floodlights, with armed checkpoints and vehicle barriers and so on. What they found was just their old school, with no extra construction work and the lights turned out. It was like Grant’s employees had gone home for the night.

‘This place can’t possibly be unguarded,’ said Mark.

‘Maybe they want us to think it is,’ answered Gracie. It was a clever comment, coming from her.

‘There’ll be a least a minimal guard somewhere,’ Ewan said. ‘Maybe even inside. So let’s be stealthy. Go as long as you can without firing a shot.’

‘Do we even have to wait until three?’ asked Raj. ‘Doesn’t look like it’s getting any quieter, and we’re giving them three hours to spot us up here.’

‘We stick to the plan. In New London the watches start and end every six hours – three and nine in the morning, three and nine at night. They’ll do the same here too. Consistency and all that.’