But the split went beyond household roles. Dad had been the parent who taught Ewan the skills he would need for adulthood, physically and mentally. He’d taught him the foundations of what being a man would one day be like, and gave him the best chance he could at preventing his neurology from screwing up his chances. Major George West had been a good man, and a good father. But he had only been effective on Ewan’s good days. It was Mum who had dealt with the bad ones.

She had always been there when something caused him to stumble. Exclusions from primary school were dealt with by tearful cuddles on the sofa. Post-meltdown evenings as a teenager had been solved with movies and homemade shepherd’s pie. She had provided the consistency and stability that a troubled boy desperately needed, and she had done it to perfection. But it had come to define their relationship: a priceless mother-and-son bond that was built entirely upon the things that went wrong.

Ewan had spent his happiest days with Dad. Mum had been there on the sidelines, silent, non-judgemental, waiting for her turn to be needed again. And each time she had picked him off the floor, hugged him better and sent him on his way, the young Ewan had gone back to his usual habit of avoiding her. Unless she was right there on a day when he needed fixing, it was easier not to associate with someone who so firmly reminded him of his bad moments.

When Ewan thought about it, he treated the memory of Mum exactly how he had treated the real woman when she was alive. Nearly a year on from Mum and Dad being gunned down inside their barricaded house, Ewan still couldn’t think of her without digging up his worst times.

It was nothing personal. Ewan had loved her. But enduring the pain of those memories wouldn’t bring her back. She was dead. Dad was dead. His aunt and uncle and eight-year-old Alfie were dead, along with Raj and Charlie and all the others on that bloody Memorial Wall.

The pain of missing someone is always worth it for the joy of having known them, said a wise man’s voice in his head.

Shut up, McCormick, Ewan’s mind said back.

‘Ewan,’ came a voice behind him.

The breeze came back into existence. As did the rest of the world around him. They weren’t far from the edge of the field now, and a tree line that would give them cover.

The stream of tears across his face became real too.

‘Ewan,’ Jack repeated, ‘I gave comms the news, and told them not to expect us back for a while. Shannon… Shannon passes on her best wishes.’

Ewan didn’t answer. Shannon’s company would have been welcome at that moment.