TWELVE
I spent the night at the cinema with Peter. I had befriended this runaway orphan in the early part of the war* and through various incidents and adventures, I seemed to have become his unofficial guardian. He was now looked after by two spinster sisters, Edith and Martha Horner, but I kept a fatherly eye upon him and tried to provide him with the care and guidance I’d lacked as a child. However, I had neglected my duty somewhat in recent weeks, indulging in my grief over the loss of Max. But now I was determined to make amends.
I picked him up early from the Horners’ neat little villa and treated him to fish and chips – a slap up meal, he called it – followed by the best seats at the Odeon, Leicester Square. I knew that apart from my neglect, the lad needed cheering up. His first
