‘Do you know what is happening at the moment?’ he asked.

‘You’re fighting a fierce battle,’ replied Marmion.

‘It’s more than that, Inspector. This is the second time Ypres has been in the thick of the action and Brother Bosch has decided to assault us with a new weapon — poison gas. It’s already taken its toll.’

‘This is hardly relevant to the matter in hand.’

‘I think it’s extremely relevant, because it goes to the heart of the matter. Priorities — that’s what we’re talking about, isn’t it? What takes priority? Is it the word of some girl who let her emotions get the better of her, or is it two members of an overstretched army fighting against a deadly enemy? Private Cochran and Private Gatliffe are no use to us if they’re carted off to London. We need them here. They’ll be in the trenches very soon, where they’ll run the risk of being shot, shelled, forced to cough up their lungs by chlorine gas or made to cry their eyes out by a swinish German lachrymator, benzyl bromide. In short, they are brave soldiers acting out of patriotic impulse.’

Marmion was scathing. ‘I don’t consider rape to be brave or patriotic, Major,’ he said with asperity, ‘nor do I find the idea of two drunken men setting upon a defenceless young woman anything but repulsive. You should be ashamed that Cochran and Gatliffe are wearing army uniforms. They are a disgrace to your regiment.’

‘That’s for us to judge,’ said Birchfield, stung by his words. ‘All that I’ve heard so far are unsubstantiated allegations.’

‘They are supported by two arrest warrants.’

‘What if it’s a case of mistaken identity?’

‘Then the two men will be released without charge.’

‘From the information that we have,’ said Keedy, ‘that seems unlikely. The victim was able to supply us with the names of the two men and the fact that they were leaving for France on the following day. That led us to your regiment, Major.’

Birchfield scowled. He sat down behind his makeshift desk and weighed up the possibilities. Reluctant to hand the two men over, he searched for ways to send the detectives packing. Marmion seemed to read his mind and jumped in smartly.

‘I can see that we are wasting each other’s time, Major,’ he said, briskly. ‘You clearly don’t have the authority to make a decision on the matter. We would therefore ask to speak to your commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Knox. Unlike you, he will doubtless understand the importance of arrest warrants and a letter from the War Office.’

‘I was assigned to deal with this,’ said Birchfield, haughtily.

‘Then please do so without prevarication. Yes,’ said Marmion, stifling a protest with a raised hand, ‘I know that there’s a war on. My own son is stationed south of here with his regiment. And in case you think Miss Stein would surrender herself to a drunken stranger in an alley, I should tell you that she comes from a respectable middle-class family and that her brother, Daniel, is fighting on the Mesopotamian Front under the command of Sir John Nixon. Now then,’ he added, crisply, ‘are you going to comply with our request or do we need to discuss your obstructive behaviour with your commanding officer?’

Eyeing the inspector with distaste, Birchfield capitulated.

‘I’ll have these men sent for,’ he said, coldly.

Alice Marmion got back from school to find her mother on her knees as she cleaned the grate in the living room. When she looked around, Alice saw that the whole place was spick and span. Her mother had even burnished the copper plates that stood on the mantelpiece. There was no need to clean the grate. It might be months before they needed to have another fire. And there was no call for vigorous housework in a room that was already spotless. Alice understood. Her mother was eager to keep herself busy so that she did not brood on Marmion’s visit to the Western Front. The worried look on Ellen’s face showed that the strategy had comprehensively failed.

‘Hello, dear,’ she said, hauling herself to her feet. ‘I was just sprucing the place up a bit.’

‘It doesn’t need sprucing up, Mummy. Come here.’

Alice took her by the arm, led her to the sofa and lowered her onto it. Putting her bag aside, she sat beside her and held her hand.

‘Daddy is fine,’ she said. ‘There’s no point in worrying.’

‘I’m bound to have some fears, Alice.’

‘Why? He’ll be nowhere near the actual fighting — much to Joe Keedy’s disappointment, I daresay. The person we need to worry about is Paul, not Daddy. Paul is in the trenches yet you don’t let anxiety about him weigh you down.’

‘I did when he first joined up,’ said Ellen. ‘I stayed awake for nights on end. As time passed, it somehow got easier to bear.’

Alice squeezed her mother’s hand then rose to her feet.

‘I know what you need.’

‘I’ll make the tea, Alice.’

‘Oh no you won’t,’ said her daughter, easing her back down on the sofa as she tried to get up. ‘Stay here — that’s an order.’

Ellen gave a grateful laugh. Going into the kitchen, Alice filled the kettle, set it on the stove and lit a gas ring. Evidently, her mother had spent a lot of time there because every surface gleamed and every item was in its rightful place. In the time that Alice had been at school, her mother had also done the washing and ironing. The windows had been cleaned on the outside and the inside. When she glanced into the back garden, Alice saw that a lot of effort had been expended on tidying that up as well.

Having made the tea, she took it back into the living room on a tray and set it down on the low table beside the sofa. Alice perched on the edge of an armchair.

‘I’ve just seen how much work you’ve done today,’ she said. ‘If this is what being married involves, I’m going to stay single.’

‘I have to keep the place looking nice, Alice.’

‘Then clean it once a week at most.’

‘Believe it or not, I like housework.’

‘Well, I don’t. I find it soul-destroying.’

After waiting a short while, Alice put milk into the two cups then removed the tea cosy. As she poured from the teapot, she used the strainer to catch the leaves. Her mother added sugar and stirred her cup. Alice spurned the sugar. Grabbing one of the biscuits, she wolfed it down.

‘I didn’t have time for a proper lunch,’ she explained.

‘Why not?’

‘Well, I still can’t make up my mind about whether or not to join the Women’s Emergency Corps. You and Daddy are against the idea so I decided to get some independent advice.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I went over to see Uncle Raymond.’

‘I told you to keep him out of this discussion.’

‘He’s family. His opinions count. So I walked over there.’

‘That was a long way to go.’

‘I didn’t mind. I felt that he’d listen without hectoring me. He’s so patient and he never makes you feel that you’re stupid.’

Ellen frowned guiltily. ‘Is that what we do, Alice?’

‘Not exactly,’ said Alice, ‘but I don’t always feel that I get a fair hearing. I was able to talk at length to Uncle Raymond without any interruption.’

‘And what was his advice?’

‘He said that I should follow my instincts. After all, that’s what he did when he joined the Salvation Army against the wishes of just about everyone in the family.’

‘I’m surprised that he didn’t try to recruit you.’

‘As a matter of fact, he did,’ said Alice, grinning, ‘though it was partly in fun. Anyway, he gave me food for thought but nothing that I could actually eat.’

She munched a second biscuit. Looking at her daughter, Ellen could not believe that someone so attractive and patently intelligent had not met her partner in life yet. Ellen had been years younger when she’d met and married Harvey Marmion and she tended to use that fact as a yardstick. The thought that Alice might end up as a spinster was deeply unsettling. After a mouthful of tea, Ellen tried to sound casual.