Dorothy got up from the table and went off, leaving her sister to look around the kitchen and see how little it had changed in the past decade. Irene was pleased to be back in the house where she’d been born and brought up. It made her feel safe and wanted. Yet she was not simply returning to her roots. Moving to London would be the start of a new phase of her life, she told herself, and that was an exciting prospect.

By the time he’d finished interviewing the suspects from Shoreditch, Joe Keedy had elicited two additional names of people who took part in the looting of the shop in Jermyn Street. One was a member of the bar staff of the pub where the mob had been drinking beforehand. Another was a newspaper vendor with a regular pitch near Piccadilly Circus. Keedy sent off men to arrest the pair of them. The other three, meanwhile, had been charged and released on bail. They went off arguing furiously, each accusing the others of betraying him.

When Keedy went to Marmion’s office to compare notes with him, he found the inspector poring over a sheaf of papers on his desk.

‘Hello, Joe,’ said Marmion, ‘how did you get on?’

‘I had them singing like canaries in the end.’

‘What did they tell you?’

Keedy gave him an attenuated version of the three interviews. The most important development, he felt, was that all of the suspects had described the man with the petrol can and actually seen him pour the liquid out before using his cigarette to ignite it. None of them had known the man’s name but all said that he worked somewhere in the West End and knew the area intimately.

‘I’ve had the report from the fire brigade,’ explained Marmion. ‘They found the petrol can amid the debris but there was no way of identifying where it was bought. The intense heat had melted it and caused it to buckle.’

‘We’ve drawn a blank there, then,’ said Keedy.

‘My guess is that it was sold by a garage nearby. Nobody wants to carry a full can of petrol any distance. It would be too heavy. I’ve sent men off to check at any garages in the locality.’

‘That’s very wise, Inspector.’

‘Wisdom is like sciatica, Joe — it comes with age.’

‘You’re still a young man at heart.’

‘I don’t feel young. When I look at our Alice and realise how old she is now, I feel quite ancient.’

‘How is Alice?’

‘I’d like to say that she’s very well but she’s got this weird idea into her head that she’d like to join the WEC.’

‘What’s so weird about it?’

Marmion sighed. ‘Alice worked her socks off to get qualifications to teach, Joe. I don’t want her to throw all that effort away. In any case, the WEC is not short of recruits, whereas schools are certainly short of good teachers like my daughter.’

‘It’s her decision and she is over twenty-one.’

‘We accept that, Joe. At the end of the day, we’ll support her in whatever she does — as long as she doesn’t join the Women’s Police Service, that is. Apparently, that’s what you advised her to do.’

‘I did,’ said Keedy. ‘I think she’d make a good policewoman. Alice is bright, hard-working and she’s got a natural authority. I know there’s a lot of opposition to the Women’s Force but I think girls like Alice could do certain things much better than we can.’

‘That’s exactly what I thought when I visited the Stein house,’ recalled Marmion. ‘I was following up that rape allegation. I never actually spoke to the victim herself — she was still in shock — but I felt very awkward as I talked to her mother. It was exactly the sort of situation where a woman would have come into her own.’

‘You should have taken Alice with you.’

‘She is not going to join the police.’

It was Marmion’s turn to recount details of an interview. He told Keedy how struck he was by Miriam Stein’s dignity and by her steely determination to seek justice for her daughter. At a time when she was coping with one family catastrophe, she had the strength to deal with another one. She’d been able to pass on two significant details about Ruth’s attackers. Keedy was interested to hear of them.

‘It took one phone call to find out what I wanted,’ he said. ‘The only soldiers who embarked for the Continent today were members of the East Surrey Regiment. They’re going to Ypres as reinforcements.’

‘Then they’re brave men. Ypres is a real hellhole.’

‘The two people we’re after are not brave, Joe. They’re cruel, heartless bastards and their names are somewhere on this list.’ He indicated the sheaf of papers in front of him. ‘I had this sent over from the War Office. They were very reluctant at first, then I threatened to set the commissioner onto them. That did the trick.’

‘Have you discovered who the two men are?’

‘Not yet, I haven’t. Bring that other chair over and help me.’

Keedy picked up an upright chair, placed it behind the desk and sat beside the inspector. Marmion spread the pages out.

‘How far have you got?’ asked Keedy.

‘I’ve had a first glance through the names and there are four Olivers in the regiment. One is a major, so I think we can discount him immediately. We’re looking for two uncouth characters. They’ll be somewhere in the ranks.’

‘What was the other name Mrs Stein mentioned?’

‘Gatty.’

‘Could that be short for Gareth or something?’

‘If it is, we’re stumped. There’s no Gareth on the list.’

‘Let me see.’

Keedy pulled the pages closer so that he could scan them. When he’d been through the Christian names of all the men, he went quickly through the list again and concentrated on the surnames. Finding what he was after, he jabbed a triumphant finger at the name.

‘That’s him,’ he decided. ‘John Gatliffe. I’d put money on him being called Gatty.’

‘You could be right, Joe.’

‘I am right. There’s no other surname like it.’

‘If Gatliffe is our man, we can soon unmask his friend, Oliver.’

‘How can you do that, Inspector?’

‘By comparing addresses,’ said Marmion, opening a folder to take out another list. ‘Friends usually live close to each other. Let’s see where our three Olivers live, shall we?’ It took him less than a minute to identify the man. ‘Here he is — Oliver Cochran. He lives in Ewell and so, by a strange coincidence, does John Gatliffe. It has to be him, Joe. Oliver Cochran was the one who actually carried out the rape. Gatliffe held the girl down.’

‘Then they’re both culpable.’

Marmion gathered up the pages. ‘I promised to have these sent back at once to the War Office. They’ve fulfilled their purpose.’

‘What’s the next step, Inspector?’

‘The commissioner will have to go into battle for us.’

‘Do you think there’ll be opposition?’

‘I’m certain of it, Joe. The army won’t want any of its men subject to a police investigation. They need every soldier they can get. Sir Edward will have to use his full weight,’ said Marmion. ‘We must have warrants for the arrest of those men and documents that give us access to them. Apart from the rape, they may have also been guilty of looting the shop.’ His jaw tightened. ‘Gatliffe and Cochran are in for a big surprise.’

They had never been abroad before and the sheer novelty of France diverted their minds from the uncertainties that lay ahead. Private John Gatliffe and Private Oliver Cochran of the East Surrey Regiment were amazed by the long straight roads lined with trees and by the quaint villages through which they were driven to the cheers of the locals. When the procession stopped for refreshment and everyone hopped out of their respective lorries, the friends were able to have a quiet chat together. Gatliffe lit a cigarette then used its tip to light the one he’d just given to Cochran. After inhaling deeply, they blew out smoke in unison.

‘It’s so different, Ol, isn’t it?’ said Gatliffe.

‘Yes,’ said Cochran, gloomily. ‘We’re heading for a war zone.’