Pushing the wheelchair along the street towards home, Patrick thought back to the time when he'd first realised he loved Paul. He remembered crouching close to a brazier as he brewed tea at the end of the trench furthest from the officer's dugout with Collier huddled beside him, his baby face blank from exhaustion. The shelling had kept up all day: Lewis, Anderson and Smith had been killed. He'd liked Smith. Pouring tea into a tin mug he handed it to Collier who cupped it in both hands. Tea slopped over his boots as the mug rattled against the boy's teeth. Patrick remembered thinking it would be better in a baby's bottle - less would be spilled.