Ewan shook McCormick’s hand, but avoided the warm smile on his face. There were already too many troubled thoughts running through his mind, and the joy of seeing his surrogate grandfather’s smile would cause enough internal conflict for tears to flow.

‘How’s Lorraine?’

‘She needs time,’ McCormick answered, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a small plastic bag. ‘Now, want to see something disgusting?’

‘Well I’ve not slept since I watched Raj get his spine blown out, and his body land on the school car park in a thousand pieces. But sure, impress me.’

Ewan was trying so hard to hide his disgust at McCormick’s actions: the risks the man had put himself through, and his plan to put himself at even more risk by joining the next strike team. But even when Ewan tried to mask his emotions, he was transparent. McCormick apologised for his clumsy language, with genuine regret in his voice, and held out the plastic bag. An ugly whitish-reddish sac lay inside, about half the size of Ewan’s thumb. The large cyst that had kept McCormick safe in Spitfire’s Rise was now outside his body, like a leash that had been unclipped from an irresponsible dog.

Clearly he didn’t learn his lesson in December. The cyst wasn’t the only reason he struggled in New London the first time .

‘Any damage to your stomach?’

‘Abdomen. Here it is.’

Jack, Gracie and Thomas walked into the living room just as McCormick raised his shirt. Gracie slapped her hands over her face, the idea of a grown man’s belly just too much for her.

The mark wasn’t quite as horrible as Ewan had predicted. It was certainly bigger – spread across more than half his abdomen – but it made sense that the cut would have to be bigger than the cyst itself. The burn marks from the soldering iron had left a canyon of thickened red mess: skin that looked hard to the touch, like overdone beef.

‘And how are you actually feeling?’ asked Jack.

‘Surprisingly good after a day in bed,’ McCormick answered. ‘And I’ve got at least twelve hours more before I need to do any exercise.’

Crap. It’s already the eighteenth. The New London mission starts tonight.

‘Has Ewan told you about Alex?’ asked Gracie.

McCormick’s puzzled face revealed his answer.

*

Ewan stood in the armoury with his arms folded, his eyes focused on the door to the exit tunnel. The comms team had been faithful in duty, waiting for confirmation that all six soldiers were home before leaving their post. But Ewan suspected Alex had other reasons for delaying his journey.

Everyone was in the armoury, watching the exit like Thomas had. Even Lorraine and Kate were halfway down the steps, not daring to miss the scene that would follow.