‘Everything in order,’ he told her. ‘I’m to report in ten days’ time.’

‘You’re cracked,’ Wilf said. He was breathing heavily, nervously. ‘For God’s sake, Vicky, how did you come to let him do a thing like that?’

She said, ‘It’s what he wants.’

‘That’s putting it a bit high,’ Lionel said.

‘Is it?’ She smiled. ‘Don’t you want it?’

Lionel said, ‘We can’t have what we want or do what we want these days. None of us can. The only thing to do is make the best of a bad job.’

‘Is that what you call the best?’ Wilf asked.

‘If I had your convictions,’ Lionel said, ‘it might not be. As it is … I think it probably is.’

‘What convictions do you have?’ Wilf pressed him. ‘Treaty obligations, gallant little Belgium, all that stuff? Are those your convictions?’

‘Not exactly.’ He smiled. ‘Mind you, I see some point in them.’

‘You see what they tell you to see.’

‘Well, I suppose I do. And what you tell me also. You’re lucky, Wilf – you see one thing clearly, and all the rest are shadows you can ignore.’