There was a moment of heartbreak as McCormick thought about what ‘his work’ truly meant. He had used a lifetime of experience to build up his housemates to be the best versions of themselves they could be, and he had also led two thirds of them to their deaths.

Then again, he could have just let them stay at home and wait to die, like the group Shannon and Lieutenant Lambourne had found in the clinic.

‘But either way,’ he finished, ‘I hope you know about your part in all this. I was never leadership material. It took the most wonderful woman in the world to turn this adult male into a man. And I hope I’m living my life in a way that honours what you did. You deserve my best, and I hope I’m giving it.’

‘McCormick?’ came a child’s laugh from the top of the ladder.

McCormick bit his lip.

‘Hello, Thomas.’

‘They’re waiting for you downstairs.’

‘I’m coming. How much did you hear?’

‘Something about you needing a woman to make you a man. What does that even mean?’

McCormick smiled, mainly with relief.

‘I was just talking to myself,’ he answered. ‘About my wife. She turned me into the person I am. Before I met her, I was just a kid in an adult’s body.’

There was a laugh, followed by a noise on the floorboard beside him. Thomas, uninvited, had joined him in the attic.

‘Even though she died too early,’ he continued, ‘her influence lives on in the people she loved. And she changed me for the better, little by little, all the way up to the day she died.’

‘She sounds awesome.’

‘She was!’ answered McCormick with a hearty laugh. ‘Really, really awesome.’

‘I hope…’

Thomas’ voice trailed off. When McCormick looked over at him, he had sealed his mouth shut.

‘You hope what?’

‘Nothing.’

‘It wasn’t nothing, Thomas.’

‘OK…’ Thomas started, his voice trembling. He seemed to already feel guilty for the words that would come. ‘I was about to say that I hope… I hope Mum did that to Dad before they split up. I know they hated each other by the end, but… I hope she changed him for the better too.’

Thomas began to shake, and McCormick knew why. He had known Beth well enough to know why. Thomas knew he had said something good, but his upbringing had restricted his freedom of thought. He was not supposed to talk about his parents’ break-up, and it must have been drilled into him from before Takeover Day. His mother had even complained about their last name still being Foster: if the divorce lawyers had been quicker, her son would have started the war with his ‘real name’.

Nonetheless, Beth’s overprotection had never stopped her son from saying kind words.

‘That’s a very mature thing to say, Thomas.’

‘Really?’ the boy asked with genuine surprise.