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code. You know, signal flags. Admirals, I suppose that’s the tip-off. I think I can read it.’ He squinted at the page. ‘W-E-R-E-O-U-T-O-F-T-E-A.’
    ‘I see.’ The young man snatched the sheet of paper back from him. ‘It’ll be from the tailors downstairs. They were both in the navy. We have to share the kettle and the gas ring. Bit of a smartarse, are you?’
    ‘N-No,’ stammered May.
    ‘Jolly good,’ said the young man, holding out his hand. ‘I’m Arthur Bryant.’ He tugged his fawn cardigan over a pudgy stomach and smiled conspiratorially. ‘You must be Mr May. What should I call you?’
    ‘John, sir.’
    ‘Don’t call me “sir”, I’ve not been knighted yet. You look fairly sturdy. We could do with someone like you.’ Bryant was the indoor type, shorter and fleshier than his counterpart. May boxed and played football. He had a long reach, wide shoulders and thick thighs, a look women liked. In decades to come, the difference in their heights became more noticeable as Bryant shrank and May’s posture stayed firm.
    ‘Did you meet our glamorous DS?’
    ‘Rather.’ May nodded enthusiastically.
    ‘She’s a hoot, isn’t she?’ Bryant’s smile unclouded into a grin. ‘One of the first female detective sergeants in the country, thanks to this mess.’ May assumed he was referring to the war and not the room. ‘Idolizes American film stars, wears make-up and high heels to work against the rules, not at all frightened of looking like a tart. Gladys Forthright. She’s engaged to a sergeant called Harris Longbright. Do you think she’s just doing it for the assonance?’ Bryant barked an extraordinary laugh. ‘I must say I thought they were going to send me someone older. You’re what, twenty?’
    ‘Nineteen.’
    ‘Nineteen, eh?’ Bryant rolled his pale blue eyes. ‘That’s a bit young for this lark.’
    ‘Not at all,’ May bridled. ‘There were lads younger than me lost at Scapa Flow.’
    ‘You’re right, of course. Eight hundred on the
Royal Oak
. It makes one doubt the existence of a grand plan. Still, all hands to the pumps at home, eh? I hope we’ll be able to do something useful together. I hear they’re making you a detective.’
    ‘Apparently.’ May tried to sound nonchalant. ‘I was on a one-year intensive but I wasn’t able to finish the course. It’s impossible to get into Hendon, and our place was closed down. They’ve run out of instructors.’
    ‘So they just bumped you up? Very decent of them. I’m twenty-two and absolutely forbidden from participating in investigations unaided because they think I’m irresponsible, but there’s no one else available to head the unit, ha ha. They probably sent you here because you look sensible. Good trick, that.’ Bryant peered round the edge of the blackouts, saw that the street was growing light and opened the curtains, hastily switching off the desk lamps. ‘We can’t afford to get fined again,’ he explained, looking down through the X-taped windows. ‘I’m hopeless at remembering to turn things off.’
    ‘You didn’t get called up?’
    ‘Well, I did, but I’ve a bit of a dicky pump.’ He gave his chest an exploratory tap. ‘And there were other factors that prevented me from going,’ he added mysteriously. Years later, May found out that Bryant’s brother had died on a Thames barge, and because their mother lived alone in Bethnal Green without financial support, the Port of London Authority had arranged a special dispensation for her surviving son. There was another mitigating circumstance that protected Bryant from conscription, but it was not something he felt comfortable speaking of. ‘What about you?’
    ‘Essential industry. I’m waiting for a post to come up. I’ve been recommended for cypher-breaking. Shortlisted for a special unit intercepting codes coming from the Atlantic.’
    ‘They’re putting something together in Hertfordshire, aren’t they? If they don’t get a move on it’ll all