the young Iraqi girl, the fellow soldier caught in the crossfire and killed in front of his eyes. He hadn’t been able to sleep, she said, not since that happened. I don’t think he could face going back to it again.
‘Not what you wanted, Jack,’ Resnick said, shaking his hand.
The 15.30 to London St Pancras was on time.
‘None of us,’ Kiley said.
‘We’ll catch that game some time.’
‘Yes. I’d like that.’
Kiley hurried down the steps on to the platform.
He phoned Jennie Calder from the train. In a little over two hours’ time he would be crossing towards the flats where Mary Anderson lived and climbing the stairs, welcome on the mat, but not for him, her face when she opened the door ajar with tears.
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