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Churchill?’ he said, more than once. ‘It seems to me sheer bloody-minded madness. After all, he got us through the war.’
    ‘But the war’s over. Or over here, anyway.’
    ‘The other lot are simply bent on running down the Empire, ruining the economy with their blasted Welfare State. It’s simply because people want something for nothing.’
    ‘Well, they’ve put up with nothing for something for quite a while.’
    ‘Really, old boy, you’re turning into some sort of Red!’
    ‘I’m not turning into anything. I’ve never been much of a Tory, but that doesn’t make me a Communist. I’d just like things to be a bit fairer.’
    ‘What do you mean by “fairer”?’
    There was a short silence: his brother seemed intent upon twisting a bit of the foiled paper from his packet of Senior Service.
    ‘Bodies,’ he said eventually. ‘I don’t mean dead ones. I noticed it when I was Number One on that destroyer. Men used to strip down, swabbing decks or in the engine room, or I just saw them when I was doing the rounds. I noticed that most of the Ordinary Seamen’s bodies were a different shape : narrower shoulders, barrel-chested, bandy legs, scrawny-looking, terrible teeth – you’d be surprised how many of them had false ones. They just looked as though they’d never had a chance to grow to what they were originally meant to be. Of course, there were exceptions – husky chaps who’d been stevedores or dockers or miners – but there were a hell of a lot who’d come from cities, from indoor jobs. I suppose it was mostly them I noticed. Anyway, compared to the officers they looked very different. It seemed to me then that except for our uniforms, we should have looked the same.’ He looked up at his brother with a small smile – like a silent and mirthless apology. ‘There were other things . . .’
    Perhaps he’s going to tell me about France, Edward thought. He’s never talked about that – at all. ‘Things?’
    ‘Er – well, like if you haven’t got much to lose, it’s far worse when you lose it. One of our gunners lost his house in the bombing. If we lost a house, we’ve got another one, haven’t we? Or we could get one. He lost his house and his furniture, everything in it.’
    ‘That could happen to anyone – has happened—’
    ‘No doubt – but it’s what happens afterwards that’s different.’
    He wasn’t going to talk about it – get whatever it was off his chest. Edward felt relieved when the waiter came to tell them that their table was ready.
    But even when they got their table, the service was very slow and they didn’t get back to the wharf until after three. He’d decided to do a quick tour with Rupert and then get away as he’d promised Diana he’d be at her place in time for dinner and spend Friday night with her before going on to Home Place. But when they got back the man who was overseeing the building and repairs to the sawmill said that the borough surveyor wanted to see him with a list of changes to be made for fire precautions. This meant going over the list on site, and one way and another it took nearly three hours. Rupert left him after a bit, and said he’d have a prowl round on his own.
    A good many of the modifications should have been done during the rebuilding of the sawmill: it was going to be far more expensive to do them now. He told Turner, the man in charge, to send him a copy of the list and said he would tackle their own surveyor about why he hadn’t called the borough surveyor earlier. Then he couldn’t find Rupert, and after he sent someone to go and look for him, he rang Diana to tell her that he wouldn’t be able to make it in time for dinner. ‘I’m still in Southampton. Got to get Rupert back to London before I come down to you – sorry, sweetie, but it can’t be helped.’
    She was obviously very upset, and by the time he’d finished talking to her, and swivelled round in his chair to put out his cigarette, Rupert was