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struck by an idea that might lessen the torment even more. It brought him to an abrupt halt. Catherine Wilder was impatient. Arm in arm with Grace Chambers, she fretted at the slight delay.
    ‘Don’t stop on my account, Sergeant,’ she said.
    ‘I thought you’d like a moment to prepare yourself.’
    ‘I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.’
    ‘Then let me make a suggestion,’ he said, indicating a door to his left. ‘Your husband’s effects are in here. It’s only his clothing, I’m afraid. Anything of value was taken away.’ When she gave a nod, he opened the door. ‘This way, ladies …’
    He let them go into the room before following. When he spoke to the man on duty behind the counter, the latter disappeared for a short while. He returned with a large metal box, placing it on the counter and waiting for an order. Catherine hesitated. Grace had to squeeze her arm to produce a request.
    ‘Please open it,’ said Catherine.
    The man spoke gently. ‘I’d better warn you what to expect.’
    ‘Just open it.’
    ‘Do as Mrs Wilder asks,’ added Keedy.
    The man lifted the lid of the box to expose the blood-soaked suit, shirt, tie and underwear of the deceased. When he lifted the items out, they could see that even the shoes and socks had been dyed red. But it was the coat that upset Catherine the most. It was the stylish jacket of a suit made by an expensive bespoke tailor. Worn by her husband, ithad fitted him perfectly and given him a slightly raffish appearance. It was the suit he wore for special occasions but he would never put it on again. There were so many slits and holes in it that it was little more than a pile of rags. As Catherine tottered, Keedy moved in closer to her but she somehow found the strength to remain standing. It was Grace who averted her eyes and began the retch.
    ‘Do you recognise it as your husband’s clothing, Mrs Wilder?’ asked Keedy.
    ‘Yes, I do,’ she croaked.
    ‘I’m so sorry that you had to see it in this condition.’
    ‘My husband was not merely killed, he was … slaughtered.’
    ‘The attack was indeed very severe,’ he said, nodding to the man to put everything back in the box. ‘Shall we continue?’
    ‘No,’ said Catherine, raising a palm.
    ‘But you came to see the body.’
    ‘I’ve seen what was done to it, Sergeant, and that’s more than enough. I can identify my husband by his clothing. I can’t bear to see anything else.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Take me home, please.’
    Keedy was content. His strategy had worked.
     
    Ellen Marmion walked slowly along the pavement with her son beside her. Paul could see just well enough to be able to go out alone now and to dispense with the white stick with which he’d first been issued. When he learnt that his mother had to visit the shops, however, he took advantage of her company so that he could go to the post office. It meant that he could keep his arm in contact with hers as they strolled along. His confidence was boosted by the fact that he was, in effect, walking normally.
    ‘I never thought that Colin was interested in girlfriends,’ she said.
    ‘He wasn’t until we went abroad,’ he replied. ‘But the rest of us all had someone back home who wrote to us and who sent us her photograph. Colin was the odd man out. He met Mavis on his last leave and, suddenly, he couldn’t stop talking about her. He realised what he’d been missing.’
    ‘I’m glad that he met someone but I do feel sorry for her.’
    ‘Mavis will miss him badly – and so will I.’
    Colin Fryatt had been Paul’s best friend. They’d been inseparable at school and in the years beyond it. They’d played in the same football team, sharing the same excitements and disappointments. Driven by a collective surge of bravado, all eleven of them had enlisted together because it meant that they could serve in the same regiment. Paul had watched the rest of the players dying off one by one. When Colin was killed in action, Paul