The sun was beating down on him and he could feel his head getting burnt. He hadn’t thought to bring a cap, which was careless, he realised now. In the city there was always shelter and shade. Out here in the countryside it was relentlessly hot and there was nowhere to hide from the sun’s merciless rays. He hoped the trip would be worth it.

In the end he’d avoided being called up without the help of Danny Callaghan, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten Danny’s refusal to go along with his scheme. All the man had had to do was to take Alfie’s medical test for him and it would have been so easy, but no, Danny had to go all law-abiding and preachy and insist it was wrong. It would have been no skin off his nose, nobody would have guessed, and Alfie could have rested easy knowing his records would forever show he had a dicky heart and was unsuitable for everything but the lightest work. He certainly wouldn’t have had to put up with the Clydebank conditions, which were nothing short of hard labour, he convinced himself. He would have had a nice indoor desk job – like Danny Callaghan had managed, so he’d heard. A lovely safe, warm, easy desk job. He’d harboured his resentment of Danny all the time he was away, until it had grown to the proportions of a grand betrayal.

Now the pressure was off and everyone was thinking about northern France and not getting poisoned by some bad meat, Alfie judged it safe enough to return to the Merseyside docks. His connections, principally local gang boss Harry Calendar, had ensured the process was smooth, and he was due to begin back on the Gladstone Dock next week. His mother had been delighted. He knew he could always rely on her. She’d written every week while he was away, regular as clockwork. That’s how he’d known Kitty was back.